


Distorted and Disordered

by UnmaskedPotential



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Anorexia, Depression, Eating Disorders, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Other, PTSD, Recovery, Schizoaffective, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Teenagers, substance use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2019-05-28 14:54:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 35,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15051599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnmaskedPotential/pseuds/UnmaskedPotential
Summary: As a struggling adolescent and misunderstood younger brother, Loki wishes for his father to be proud of him and accept him for who he is. Feeling unloved, he seeks to gain control of his world through food. What begins as a coping strategy leads to an eating disorder that threatens to take from him his very life. Will finding new friends and purpose change his outcome?





	1. Chapter 1

The young adolescent groaned quietly as the alarm by his bedside table shrilled loudly, piercing his ears with an unsatisfactory scream. 

He rolled over and swung his arm to the button that would release the alarm from its duty, and then slumped to his back, green eyes staring up at his ceiling. 

He was a teenager, feeling like an even younger boy, but all of his years of interacting with his older brother, fighting the good fights and laughing off his worries were beginning to weigh on him and his scrawny shoulders. 

The alarm sounded another shrill whine as he rolled his eyes over to stare at it numbly. 

He let it ring and ring and ring, until he heard the bang on his wall behind his raven head sound. 

“Loki! Will you shut that damn thing off!” 

_Aaa, yes, Thor. I’ll get right on that, Thor. Just three more shrill whines for you to be annoyed by and then I’ll be shutting it off, **Thor.** _

Satisfied by his early morning mischief, Loki rolled his way off his comfortable fortress and down onto the wooden floorboards, his cool feet slapping onto them with a playful beat. 

He lunges his weight over to his dresser, picking out his black jeans and a rough, wrinkled gray t-shirt, before slipping the garments over his body and settling to stare at his thin face in the mirror. 

It wasn’t that the adolescent was unattractive. By far, he was quite a handsome looking boy, with his black rivulets of hair reaching to the near tip of his shoulders, his green eyes budding with promise, mischief and knowledge. His jaw line was distinct and exquisite, but something lacked in his features that made him second guess his worth and his…placement in life and society. 

He frowned to himself, the light in his eyes dissipating as he considered his role in school. 

He was the loner there for sure, with few friends sans what his older brother’s fighting circle included. Sif, Fandral and Hogun weren’t the kind of people Loki would normally associate with, and they were more close to his brother than himself, but they were company nonetheless and Loki didn’t put up much of a fight for playing along with that. 

Loki was normally the type of adolescent to find his nose in the books, studying relentlessly to pull up high grades in his advanced placement classes, hoping in his soul that his father would look upon his achievements with pride - the same way he would look to Thor’s achievements in sports and hobbies, despite the fool pulling out averages of C’s and maybe a few B’s (which only occurred with his help). 

Loki normally ate his lunches (when he did eat) in the library before the thirty year old librarian with short brown hair and a kind heart would have to kick him out because there couldn’t be any more mice finding crumbs in the corners of the bookstands. 

Loki often didn’t dare to enter the noisy cafeteria for his meals, the fight or flight cliques harboring more anger and resentment within himself than what he cared to admit as in his freshman year he found himself either alone or sitting amongst Thor’s obnoxious friends who mostly ignored Loki’s presence anyways. 

Rather, the young adolescent preferred (when his library gig was a no-go) to sit outside amongst the bushes or tall oak trees, listening to the birds as they whistled, even choosing to sit out there in the drizzling rain because it meant avoiding another smoky bathroom stall lunch. 

THWACK!  
His green eyes snapped to attention, staring up at the reflection of his finely gray bedroom door, the pounding at it subsiding only to be met with their father’s booming voice, “Breakfast!” 

Loki sighed to himself, and hurried over to his heavy book bag, a jumble of textbooks and pleasurable readings stuffed inside the dark green fabric. Grabbing the black straps and hanging them over his shoulders, he moved through his slightly messy room, to the door of his bedroom, begrudgingly having to begin another morning walk to the high school with Thor’s loud squabble of what he called speech.

It would be a long, long day indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

“-- You should have seen it! I was deep in the throes of his fists, they were swinging at me like a wild baboon, and with a mighty fist I slammed my shoulders into his, knocking him back and ka-pow! He was down! I had won the match!” Thor grinned toothily, his reenactment causing him to bounce up and down in excitement, as he cast his younger brother a quick glance.

 

The dark haired sixteen year old stared blankly ahead at the gray brown streets.

 

Thor frowned.

“Loki?”

 

The pair of green eyes swiveled slowly over to Thor’s.

Loki’s brow raised a quarter of an inch in response.

 

“What.”

 

Thor’s frown increased, his red backpack missing a strap, slouched along his back and broad shoulders as he returned in step with his younger sibling.

 

“Weren’t you listening to my wrestling match? How I won the last game?” Thor looked petulant for a moment, before grinning again and remarking, “It was quite the victory!”

 

Loki rolled his eyes.

 

“Yeah, yeah, Thor. You’re always winning and father is always **oh so proud** of you.” The youngster quickened his step in an attempt to outmatch his brother.

Thor caught up easily, of course.

 

“Loki,” his meaty hand pressed to Loki’s shoulder for a moment, and Loki processed the feeling of warmth and life from his brother before Thor’s next words loosely caught his attention. “You know father is proud of you, just the same.”

 

Loki sighed breathily, a chuckle slipping past his lips.

 

“Come on, Thor, I know you’re not as smart as I am, but even you can realize the pathetic lie you just spat out.”

 

Thor stopped walking, staring at Loki with worried confusion.

 

For whatever reason, Loki found himself stopping too, staring back into his brother’s blue eyes.

 

“Loki, you know that’s not true.”

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

“…Would you like me to talk to father about this?”

 

Loki barked, “No! I don’t need you fighting my battles for me, Thor. I can take care of my fucking self.”

 

Thor’s confusion shattered into sadness.

 

“Oh, Loki, you know how mother would frown upon that language.”

 

Loki huffed, “Mother’s not here.”

 

Thor pressed his lips together thinly. He opened his mouth to utter other half words of comfort, but Loki beat him to it and muttered, “We better be going, otherwise Mr. Kampton’s going to give you another report on why you’re late.” Loki looked knowingly at Thor.

 

Thor shook his head. “I don’t understand why Kampton gives me the assignments when you’re equally as late as I am.”

 

Loki flashed a mocking grin. “It’s because he can actually stand me.”

 

Thor grimaced in response, quirking a brow and settling his instinctual competitive gaze to Loki.

 

“Ready?”

 

Loki’s expression betrayed his knowledge of what Thor was talking about.

 

“Not particularly.”

 

“Too late!” Thor shouted, hurrying forward as his heels kicked up the dirt of the early autumn day.

 

Loki stared at his retreating form before adjusting his backpack and running after his older brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I didn't write any end notes for this chapter and it was written in the most horrific of fancy fonts. XD On the plus side of uploading this work here is that it causes me to have to review and read over it again which I have been avoiding for ages, so, that's nice! Let me know what you think. It does go pretty slow in the first five chapters but will pick up space later on (it was probably because I didn't know what I was doing with it yet, ahaha). Thank you so much for reading. <3 
> 
> I lied, I found the end notes! It was basically me just saying what I said above, ahaha. This was written back on 3.28.16 I like being able to track my whereabouts online, if you haven't noticed already. :)  
> Also, I'm still getting used to AO3 and how it works so my apologies if this starts off being messy and with a shit presentation. :P


	3. Chapter 3

The sound of pen scratching roughly into paper thundered in Loki’s ears. He gritted his teeth, applying more pressure from his hand to his pen, the blue ink nearly bursting forth from its deluxe shell. The paper beneath his skin caved inwards and tore a little more with each scrawled word that laced upon its lines.

 

Soon, Loki growled to a stop, staring down at his notebook in a disgruntled fashion.

 

 _Not good enough,_ he thought. He bit his lip in concentration, swiveled the paper around and began applying thinner, more even strokes to the page.

 

Before he had time to finish his masterpiece and enjoy the satisfaction of having done so--the bell rang. Its whine echoed in the nearly empty study hall as the remainder of students casually passing notes to each other and openly snoring got up in a chaotic flurry and took off to the lunchroom. Loki glanced up briefly to the older gentleman with the thinning set of brown hair and dark brown eyes, the substitute for the week as it seemed, who barely made any sound of protest.

 

Loki mentally thanked the Norns and thought he was out of the woods and continued with his work until the man cleared his throat expectantly and asked Loki if he was going to lunch.

 

 _I’d rather not,_ the teenager thought to himself, but he could take a hint and brought along his notebook with him as he headed to his silver locker a few halls away.

 

The combination came easily from his memory to his working fingers as he spun the green secret keeper from sixteen to thirty-four to eight. The resounding click caused a small flurry of a smile to grace his precious lips. He scurried about in his neatly organized locker for a moment, before finding the slightly rippled brown paper bag that meant his stomach would fill with food for the forty-five minutes they had for lunch.

 

Opening it now with a crinkling sound, he peered inside curiously to see a red apple, a Capri-Sun and a small pack of Oreo cookies.

 

“Hmph, it’ll do,” he muttered to himself, closing the locker with a sense of finality and hurrying towards the library, hoping to get his seat by the window.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time he did reach the library, which was as deserted as ever, he did manage to have his window seat. He opened up his textbook on geometry and let the open notebook of his most recent work in progress sit out on the table so he could fiddle with it when further inspiration struck him. He poured over his notes and the isosceles triangles and forty-five degree angles of the various numerical examples that stared nauseatingly back at him.

 

Loki snuck in about two bites of his apple before the pang of guilt that he hadn’t reviewed his English homework snuck up on him. He paused for a moment, staring from the apple to his work, and set down the apple to instead pull the book closer to him.

 

He had to study up on this material of geometric bullshit so he’d have the time to review his English notes. It was only natural for him to cut out the unnecessary details, which in the case just so happened to be food.

 

He shook his head; he could handle one missed meal. It was no big deal, really.

 

What harm could one apple do?

 

Loki crinkled up the lunch bag and shoved its contents into the nearest wicker basket. He could eat when he got home.

 

For now, he had work to do.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit as of 6/25/18:  
> GWAH! It's so aggravating, I didn't include my A/N in the chapter's document again and must have just written about it IN my FF.net instead. *eye roll* It's funny how things change over time, with what fonts you use, how you convey words, what things you include versus exclude... 
> 
> Original A/N from 4.17.16:  
> I apologize for taking a while to update this fic (nothing new there!), I received a new review so that sparked the writing vibes, I struggled with the beginning of the chapter, and I wanted to start including some of the darker details that will be present through the majority of this fic. 
> 
> Does anyone know if the chapter notes are supposed to go one on top of the other or can previous ones be removed? Hope you enjoyed this piece! Chapter 6 FYI will be dark. I start putting in trigger warnings at the start when that begins to happen.


	4. Chapter 4

Loki’s green eyes rolled about sluggishly in their sockets as he sat in his front row desk in his English class. His pen scratched upon the notebook before him in an illegible manner (one which when he looks back on later will cause him to laugh and shake his head). He could hear his teacher’s voice, Ms. Pirelli, sounding from the end of a tunnel, fading in and out with his jumbled thoughts about blueberry muffins and crisps on the walls.

 

“Loki?” her voice cut in through the fog dramatically and the young adolescent dropped his propped up arm from his chin smacking his limb onto the desk in surprise. He hissed quietly as a few other classmates behind him chuckled cynically.

 

“Yes?” came his questioning quip, as his eyes refocused on Ms. Pirelli’s yellow and pink blossom sweater.

 

She raised a slim brow in response, and shook her head lightly, responding with, “Please do try and stay awake in my class. I know after lunch classes are difficult for any of us, but if you could at least pretend to be paying attention, I’d appreciate it.”

 

She then turned back to the whiteboard and began explaining the climax of a story and how one gets there from the beginning hook.

 

Loki shook himself lightly and sighed deeply. He scrubbed his face with his hands, and flipped to a new page of his notebook to begin taking more legible notes. A piece of paper from behind him tapped him on the back and he didn’t even have to turn around to know it was from the goofy grin of his older brother.

 

“Not now, Thor,” he hissed quietly beneath his breath, only sending a daring glare over his shoulder to his brother.

 

Thor, dark red sweatshirt and all, smiled back and prepared to toss another paper at Loki before Ms. Pirelli turned around again.

 

Loki sighed; his brother wouldn’t stop with his shenanigans until he was foolishly caught by Ms. Pirelli (as was always the case).

 

It was about three minutes later that Ms. Pirelli was looking unamused at Thor, a crumpled up piece of paper clenched in her small fists.

 

Loki couldn’t help but laugh out loud, then.

 

* * *

 

The gentle autumn breeze stroked through Loki’s dark hair as he began the trek back home. Thor was racing up the street ahead of him, practically dodging cars like a football player, while Loki shook his head back and forth in disapproval, warning his brother that he’d be the one in trouble if Thor got hit by a truck.

 

“You know father would point the finger at me!” Loki called up to him, shifting the weight of his backpack on his shoulders.

 

Thor laughed without a care in the world, swinging around the trunk of an oak tree, “And mother? What of she?”

 

Loki bit his lip to correct his brother’s word choice.

 

“Mother… Mother would fret about your lack of limbs and ask where I was as you pranced about the streets!”

 

Thor chortled at Loki’s response.

 

“Oh, brother, you are too funny!” Thor slowed down his pace so he wasn’t in danger of being hit by anything large, metal and moving.

 

Loki’s chin tilted upwards in pride, “Of course I am.”

 

Thor smiled in approval, his blue eyes twinkling. He rubbed his hands together in glee, lightly pushing on his younger brother’s shoulder so that the younger sibling stumbled back slightly.

 

“When do you think Mother will be back from her trip?”

 

Loki gazed at him in mild perplexity. Thor was more of their father’s child while Loki was more of their mother’s. Loki spent the most time with their mother, and the two were very close. Which isn’t to say that their mother didn’t love Thor, by far the opposite was true (although Loki felt that their father had distaste for him). It’s just that Thor didn’t often ask about her, especially when she was away on business trips, as she was now.

 

“I’m not sure; I think she said it would take another week?” Loki guessed, trying to recall what their mother had said from the last time they spoke with her over the phone.

 

“I hope it’s soon! I can’t wait to tell her about the--”

 

And that’s where Loki tuned out again, not having to listen to his brother go into another long ramble about the wrestling match he won (which, yes, was the same story from this morning). Thor’s stories never got old in his ears so he loved telling and re-telling them. Loki, on the other hand, got bored after listening even the first time.

 

Instead, Loki gazed off into the distance, watching the yellow and orange tinged leaves rustling in the crooks of their branches. They softly muttered to themselves in the light breeze, the sun behind them shining brightly, daring to twinkle between the gaps of air. Loki smiled at the sight, inhaling deeply through his nose to better smell the autumn scent that lingered in the air.

 

Soon, October would be strolling along and their world would be consumed in pumpkin themed drinks, festivities and snacks. He couldn’t help but admit to himself (and no one else) that he was excited for Halloween. Dressing up as anyone but you for one night to get candy from random people? Come on, who doesn’t like that?

 

Loki certainly loved it, he liked the spooky atmosphere of the holiday, getting to hear campfire stories and scare the shit out of his fellow classmates… it was a particularly mischievous month for him and he was enthralled by the aspect of being someone other than himself. He had the freedom to be any person, thing, monster or whatever that he wanted and no one could stop him.

 

A buried part of him also enjoyed the holiday because he felt he could pretend to be the son his father wanted him to be, and in that way, get his love and acceptance. It certainly didn’t work for Loki any other day of the year. But, he tried not to think about that too much, winning his father’s acceptance was difficult and his own burden to bear.

 

He thought back to this morning when Thor had offered to fight his battle for him, and his lips slipped into a small frown. He knew it wouldn’t help, Thor had tried that tactic in the past and it had only made Odin’s sharp eyes stare at Loki like he was some cursed, inhuman creature from another planet.

 

His green eyes watered slightly at the memory, forcing him to choke back the sadness that gripped his heart like a vice. A pang of loneliness struck him then and he had to put all his remaining energy into not expressing it, not that Thor was noticing his internal war anyways, so that no one asked any questions.

 

He didn’t have time to answer questions he didn’t know the answer to himself. He couldn’t understand the loneliness, the lack of acceptance and the heaviness these burdens carried upon his shoulders. He didn’t even dare tell Frigga about them, for fear she would discuss the matter with Odin himself--and then of course Loki would just wind up with another Thor situation on his hands.

 

No, Loki could handle things on his own. He didn’t have to tell anyone. He could get by.

 

He was a smart teenager. He kept his nose in the books and one day Odin would see how smart and great and accomplished he was. He just had to keep pushing out great grades. He’d be recognized for his own unique talents, just as Thor was recognized for his, some day. He just had to keep working.

 

_Keep working, keep working and you’ll be perfect,_ he thought to himself.

 

Perfection was his to attain. And that was the last thought he had before Thor and he slipped into their shadowy home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From 4/18/16:
> 
> A/N: Back again! Actually got a writing vibe this evening so I present to you another (bonus for longer!) chapter! =]   
> I'd like to thank [RETRACTED] for the awesome review they left me, since reading over your message got me thinking about some answers to your questions and that got me into writing this. I've been meaning to explain where Frigga has been so far in this story, so it was helpful to mention it here. We also get further insight into what issues Loki is dealing with (I'm thinking some undiagnosed depression is underway as well)   
> I hope you all enjoy this update! Thank you all for reading, fav-ing, and following! Reviews are candy that I will happily eat up, too!   
> Hope to see you guys again by the end of this week or start of next! =] 
> 
> A/N of 6/25/18:  
> Yeah, so you may or may not be getting the regurgitated version of this story in the way of me uploading every chapter up to 15 within the next two days (today being one of those days). I'm happy to find a few 'hits' so far, that's really awesome. I also hooked up my account here and on FF to a different email so I expect to get a LOT of emails in the coming months all about FF and AO3 (from story updates, reviews, favorites, etc.) Thank you so much for reading!!! Much love.   
> PS One of the things about re-reading my stories is that I forget just how many details are in them and what I need to keep track of. (Because you can be sure that I haven't reread this material in months and just made up new stuff that probably contradicted earlier set plots, but, alas....) 
> 
> Okay, honestly, I just re-read this chapter over before I am putting it into the box and can I JUST SAY--OHMYGERD, IT'S SO SAAAAD. Freakin' crying over here! I totally feel for Loki and all his struggles and it's so unfortunate the point of view he has on himself, others and the world and he's a flawed character with a flawed perspective. Everything isn't always exactly how it seems and that is no more true than in this fic. It's so awesome to think how there are people out in the world who use these well known characters we all know and love and place them into different scenarios, different bodies, different climates and even though they're shaved down parts of themselves they're still who we see on the screen anyway... It's just ridiculously amazing if you really take a moment to pause and think about it. Okay, I'm done talking. OH THE ANGST!


	5. Chapter 5

***Trigger warning: Eating disorder details, numbers and suicidal themes in this chapter***

 

Loki glanced up at his reflection in his dresser mirror. He wandered his way over to it, his fingers brushing against the skin of his cheeks, just below his green eyes. He felt the small hairs on his face; felt the warmth of his touch, then clenched his fist quickly, his nails pressing into the lines of his palm.  
  
    **So pathetic.** His mind rasped as his eyes traveled over the bulk of his body. In a moment he felt over sized. He’d seen the way the other boys carried themselves—large muscles and well trained abs, girls on their ankles, attaching themselves to the boys’ hips. He saw the attention the other boys got from his very own classmates, from his teachers, from their parents…their fathers.   
  
    Why couldn’t Odin accept Loki, too, as his son?  
  
    Why did Odin have to look so disgusted by Loki’s existence? With Loki’s lack of honor? With Loki’s **imperfections.**  
  
    Why couldn’t Loki be the son his father would be proud of? Why couldn’t his father be at his parent teacher conferences, his middle school graduation, his accomplishments, backing up his dreams?  
  
    Why did Odin only express failure in his eyes for Loki when  Thor, of all people, got success, pride and love?  
  
    What did the younger adolescent have to do to get his father to love him—unconditionally?  
  
    Loki gasped in pain, tears forming of their own accord, trailing down his cheeks in multiplying rows.   
  
    Loki was a disgrace and a failure—just for being himself.  
  
    The young boy began pinching his flesh in thick quantities—extending his fatty skin from the skeleton that lay somewhere underneath.  
  
    **So fat. So disgusting. How pathetic.**  
  
    His eyes rolled uncontrollably, the world spinning in visions of two and three mirrors. His frame twisted and turned, growing black and thick as the words hurled over and over in his mind. He clung to the sides of his mahogany dresser, his knuckles white from the strength he imposed upon the wood. His breath came out in quickened gasps, his heart thudding vigorously inside his chest.   
  
    Each beat rose to his ears where he could hear it snarling: **Pathetic, Pathetic, Pathetic.**  
  
    He wanted to slam his head into the mirror before him, but instead he found himself pulling away swiftly and hurling into the nearest bathroom, down the hall to the left. He slammed the door behind him with a bang, disoriented from the rush of panic swarming over him, his brain swelling like a hot air balloon’s rise to the sky. He lurched forwards and undocked the scale they had propped up on its side by the toilet.   
  
    Without thinking he stepped onto the cool metal, and waited with exasperation until  
  
                                          _128.3_  
  
    appeared. Suppressing the urge to fling himself off a bridge, Loki stuffed the scale back into its hiding spot, lifting up his gaze to meet the blurred reflection that stood back at him.  
  
    He growled lowly and slapped an oily hand to the clear glass, turning the faucet hastily until he was splashing icy chill water on his face. Settling into the feeling of the droplets rolling down into his sleeves, Loki dried himself roughly.  
  
    Then, returning to his bedroom, he gathered his book bag and textbooks, leering towards the stairs where Thor would undoubtedly be sat at the kitchen table working on his homework in an ineffectual manner, spending far more time socializing on his cell phone than anything else.  
  
    Loki braced himself for his brother’s foolishness as he trudged to the room.  He had work to do to prove himself great.   
  
    Everything else could wait.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of 6/25/18:
> 
> I find it so very fascinating that I wrote the majority of this chapter (10) back when I first created the piece in 2016. I remember I got some ... alarming comments on it towards the end of autumn and it royally freaked me out and made me question whether or not I should finish this story. Luckily, I dealt with it the best way I could and have stuck with it regardless. It is ... important to keep in mind, which is why I also include trigger warnings in my works. Just because I think it's important to have the option to back out if that's what is going to keep you the most safe. Any who, I couldn't find my document of this chapter or the next so I'm borrowing it from my DA account. I think I hand wrote these ones... any who... 
> 
> As of 5/2/16:  
> A/N:Here’s chapter 5 everyone! I wrote up a chapter last week, which will be coming in right after this one, but felt it was too dark and too sudden as the fifth chapter and needing some filler before it got there. Hence, this chapter I did today! =]
> 
> Leave me your thoughts and ideas if you so wish to do so! They are candy to me and propel me to write more, sooner! =] 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. <3


	6. Chapter 6

***A/N: Trigger Warning: Heavy mentions of suicidal themes and eating disorder details in this chapter***

* * *

 

 

There was a shroud of shadow lying over the young boy’s eyes—making the light in them dull and corroding the hope in his soul. He felt nothing he **was** nothing.   
  
    He had no one.  
  
    What point in there was living if he had nothing and no one?  
  
    Truly, what did he have?  
  
    Good grades?  
  
    Pfft, like anyone even congratulated him on those accomplishments. He might as well be blind and crippled—although he suspects that even then he wouldn’t receive the adequate amount of love and attention he so desperately needs.  
  
    Loki shifted his shoulder from the harsh angle of his pillow and bed, settling into a better position that didn’t make him want to cut off his arms and stick them over the nape of his neck.  
  
    He sighed lowly, his breath pillowing out of his lungs like smoke. If the room could reflect the coldness he felt in his body and soul, he would have been able to see the air puffing out of him like it does in the winter.   
  
    He nudged himself deeper into his mattress, wishing the gray October month would swallow him up and never dare to spit him out again.   
  
    By the Norn’s, was he depressing.   
  
    No wonder why he had no friends.  
  
    He was so **disgusting** and pathetic.   
  
    Why was he still bothering to breathe?  
  
    Loki’s vision crinkled at the edges, blurring slightly as tears formed in his eyes.   
  
    _But I want to live, don’t I?_ He thought quietly to himself, whispering in his own mind as though fearful someone from the outside world—there **is** no outside world, only **this** —would still be able to hear him.   
  
    **No.** Came the shadows response.   
  
    Loki sucked in a shuddering breath, whimpering softly.  
  
    _Who else is in here?_ Came his next thought, only to be met with a heavy silence.  
  
    _Am I alone?_ He questioned meekly.  
  
    **Of course you are. No one cares about you anyway.**  
  
    _That-That’s not true…_  
  
    **How would you know? It’s not like you’ve ever gotten Father’s approval. And Mother’s? Please, it’s just an act. You know she could feign cares for even a small fly. That’s all you are to her—a useless, pathetic, piece of shit fly.  
  
    You’re just a burden. Nothing more than a scrap of gum stuck to your family’s shoes.   
  
    You’re worthless. Pathetic, imperfect, worthless Loki. So you’ve got grades—what does that matter if no one in the world loves you? **  
  
    Loki flinched, raising his cement heavy arms from his sides to curl his fists in his eyes—attempting to slow the tears that were drowning out his voice.  
  
    He moaned, “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”  
  
    But still the shadows were unrelenting.  
  
    Still the stress of the three exams he had approaching and the lack of sleep and the lack of proper nutrition—he’d been skipping every breakfast for the last two weeks, eating the bare minimum at lunch, and having the most at dinner which always made him feel more disgusting and worthless—kept pounding and pounding into him. The shadows’ words echoed over and over in his mind.  
  
    He was desperate! There had to be a way out!  
  
    **There is! There is! There is!**  
  
    “No, no, no…”  
  
    His mind began to taunt him, pouring images into his eyes, flashing scenes of his death and destruction before he had a chance to utter any useless protests.   
  
    “Stop. Please, stop,” he whimpered, begging his brain to cease its unrelenting functioning.  
  
    **Will you do it? Will you do it? Do as I say?**  
  
    He gasped, openly crying, the tears running down his flesh— escaping.   
  
    “No…”  
  
    **Then I’ll wait until you’re ready. You’ll do it soon enough… You’ll do it…Soon enough.**  
  
    Loki pushed with all his might to lift himself from the shards of his bed.   
  
    _I want to live. I want to live._ He repeated in his mind, passing a sparse glance at his reflection in the mirror and instantly wishing he hadn’t.  
  
    **So disgusting.** The shadows growled. **Look at that fat—ugh, so pitiful. You don’t even deserve to eat—you’re so imperfect. Flawed. A mistake.**  
  
    Loki trembled, nauseated by the persistence and the cruelty of these shadows, his vision clouding over as though the sun no longer existed in his universe.   
  
    _I have no place in this universe,_ he thought begrudgingly, finding his strength waning once more. He tried standing a little taller then, but the crushing weight of the Saturday morning was too heavy to bear.  
  
    His shoulders slumped, his green backpack lying on its side where he had deposited it the night before.  
  
    _So much work to do…_  
  
    His vision sparkled then, his eyes for a moment brightening. He wouldn’t be conflicted with the shadows when he had piles of academia to get through. He breathed for what felt like the first time that year. In schoolwork he was safe. No thought or feeling could interrupt him then. Not even Thor’s attempts to bother him.   
  
    Loki pulled out his textbooks and notebooks, dragging them to his desk, as the grumble of a thunderous roar echoed from his empty, disgruntled stomach.  
  
    Loki blushed in embarrassment even though he was the only one to hear it.  
  
    _I better get something to eat._  
  
    As he rearranged his books, he missed the shifting of his vision, where the veil came over him again and in his mind the shadows whispered,  
  
    **Oh, no.... No, Loki....**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of 4/26/2016:  
> A/N: Congratulations!! You survived this chapter.
> 
> Wow, I forgot how dark and deep and soul crushing this chapter went to. I wrote it as a vent piece last week, as I struggle with OCD on self-harm and suicide obsessions myself (doesn’t equate to me being suicidal but secondary depression has evoked such natures) So, reading this back was … an exposure for sure. If you’d like to know more about my mental health issues feel free to message me (I’m very open about it!)
> 
> So we’re starting to get into the deeper, darker stuff. The shadows here are the depression and eating disorder voices in Loki’s mind. I’m excited for where this story’s journey is taking us! If you were triggered by the content of this chapter, I’d suggest backing out now. It’s only going to get worse from here for a while, before Loki finds the light again. (And also, if you are struggling, please get professional help, seek out friends or family that you trust and can confide in, call a hotline, cope positively. You will make it through any crisis you are struggling with. I believe in you and I care about you. If you ever need to talk, just send me a message, and I’ll get to it as soon as I can!!)
> 
> I’m thinking that the other Avengers may begin to get involved and introduced around the 20’s chapter-wise. This is a story taking shape into a larger project (about 50 chapters), so thank you for all of you who are interested and are coming on this journey with us! Thank you so much for reading!! Stay safe and be kind to yourselves =] hugs
> 
> As of 6/25/18:  
> Heeeeere's hoping I don't trigger myself!! My commentary as of reading this over again (if you care to read):   
> Being deserving of eating is a theme you'll see reintroduced into this story by chapters 13 and 14.   
> As is the case in most of my stories, but especially D&D, I use a lot of my own experiences and details that have actually happened in my life just over-exaggerated and altered to fit the mold of Loki's character and everything that's going on with him within these words. I have actually written this chapter as a vent when I was struggling years ago, an upcoming chapter as a vent from November 2017 and music and recovery will be a big part of this story (as it is in my life) and Logic's 1800 song will also be featured as one of the many. 
> 
> Especially in this chapter compared to chapter 14, you see how academia used to matter to Loki and then slowly everything he found pleasure and comfort in is taken away. Such is the nature, sadly, of depression. :( I encourage you, if you've read this chapter, to get a nice bite to eat, pun not intended, take a shower, or do some self-care, it's heavy stuff for sure, and it will get better!!!


	7. Chapter 7

He needed to get out. He needed to launch himself from the crooks of his clothes and into the thunderous rainfall that came down that October evening.

 

Wasn’t he supposed to be asleep?

 

Well, of course.

 

It was 2am, after all.

 

But could he sleep?

 

No, no he could not.

 

The shadows breath lay down and swirled amongst his shaky ones. His green eyes stared out numbly and broken, watching the flashes of lightning illuminate his bedroom as the thunder boomed unrelentingly.

 

_I have to get out. I **need** to get out_. His thoughts rasped to him, choking on the syllables, struggling to suck in one pure, full breath, one after the other.

 

“I need to get out.” He groaned to himself, using his remaining strength to pry himself from the clutches of his formidable bedspread.

 

He stood, then, peeling off the sweaty dark T-shirt and slipping into his dark green, long sleeved Slytherin top and a pair of jeans that lay crumpled on the floor from the school day before.

 

He adjusted his sneakers, having gotten messier in the last week, and edged off as quietly as he could from his room, down the hall and towards the steps.

 

For a split second, he heard his father’s mattress squeeze and ache as he pictured him sliding to the right in the large, empty bed.

 

Their mother wasn’t due back for another evening, and Loki’s longing for her presence weighed heavily in his chest, prodding him to skip down the steps agilely to get to the outside balcony.

 

From there he stood stock still for a moment, watching the dark night filled with cool raindrops falling from the sky, the lightning illuminating a fraction of the droplets as they made their descent to the muddy grass.

 

Loki watched in awe, transfixed by the powerful strokes of Nature, like she were a painter bringing rebirth to the shadowlands.

 

He listened as he could hear the tampering and the puttering of the leaves being soaked, their yellow and gold encrusted bodies being slung from their homes, twirling in the ebony, fluttering to the ground. He imagined what it might be like to be torn away from everything he had known, to be brought to a world that was not his own, alone and with no one near him to guide him on his journey back.

 

He wondered what it was like to know love and belonging, to know support and friendship, to know what light it brought to one’s soul--and to have the plug yanked away in fury and passion--finding him in a world comprised of pain and bittersweet nothingness.

 

What was it like to have it all--only to lose it once more?

 

What was it like to be whole--not empty and broken and cracked?

 

Loki closed his eyes slowly--because now he was out there, he was living amongst the crashing droplets, amongst the powerful strokes of thunder and white hot light that threatened to take from him his very soul.

 

It was simpler to stand amongst the wreckage with his eyes closed, a separate being from the thunder, than with his eyes open--as the hungry licks of water would poke his green eyes in a manner that was both rude and obnoxious.

 

Loki breathed in a cool, refreshing breath. He inhaled the scent of the world surrounding him--a world he could have easily slept through and would be none the wiser of in the morning.

 

Being there alongside the storm gave to him more comfort and freedom than what he had felt in months. He could sense the love from his mother’s hugs here, the encouragement of Thor’s boastful personality and the prying eagerness that father, too, would be accepting of him.

 

In the watery sludge he was engaged in, he felt he could breathe once again.

 

The shadows of his mind could not dare to overtake him. The numbers and counting and weight and drudgery, were no match for his attention here.

 

The only trouble?

 

Loki dreaded the moment he would be forced to disengage, to return to a world where he was questioned for being himself and looked down upon for yearning to be loved.

 

The storm he stood in may end naturally, but the one behind his pale eyes would never go so quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of 6/23/16:  
> A/N:  
> Hey everyone! My massive apologies for the longggggg, long absence. I have NOT given up on this story, nor do I intend to. Life got busy for me and I've been having some struggles with the OCD lately, and I've been meaning to write for weeks, and FINALLY got some inspiration to do so today when I was hanging with a friend of mine who also got some fanfic writing done :D
> 
> Any who, I'm hoping to work up on Chp 8 next and get that to you guys over the weekend. It will finally be their Mother returning from her business trip and we'll come to find out if she notices the changes in Loki over the time she's been away.... dun dun dunnnn.
> 
> Hope you all are well and snazzy, you beautiful people! Reviews are lovely, and I want to thank all of you out there who are reading and reviewing and giving me the much needed prods to continue writing this. Thank you so much!!! *hugs* I've also recently created a blog if anyone's interested in that, hahah ;)
> 
> Thank you all again!! I'll try to make the next one longer if the Muse obeys.
> 
> As of 6/25/18:  
> Back again! I think I'm just going to work on getting this final chapter up today and do the rest tomorrow, not sure yet. Maybe even introduce some of my other stories to this site while I'm already here. I hope that you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you think in a comment. :) Until next time!


	8. Chapter 8

The young teenager awoke late that freshly brisk Saturday morning. It was past noon when his ebony hair slid from his shoulders as he stretched and yawned, his green eyes gazing in surprise at the peculiarly late hour for him.

 

Why no one had woken him was beyond his thought processes of the moment. He turned one green filled eye to peek at his dresser mirror before he scrambled to his feet and padded barefoot over towards his blue and green patterned calendar. The month of October featured a plaid background with a kitten dressed as a pumpkin. Loki wasn’t ashamed of how the picture melted his heart and since he had few friends, and even less to visit him, he didn’t face any strong criticisms for his guilty pleasure.

 

Once the teen made it to the calendar, his eyes lit up with glee at the brightly circled Saturday that had finally come to be.

 

“Mother’s returning home!!” He erupted in excitement, fist pumping the air as he scattered from his bedroom, down the hall and swung into Thor’s room.

 

“Thor!” he screeched, jumping like a child from the doorway onto his older brother’s bed. Thor lay amongst the red blankets and Star Wars themed bedspread, and was so fast asleep, he barely even responded to the jostling of his mattress.

 

“Thor!” Loki shouted again, this time flopping around like a fish over his brother’s sprawled body.

 

The elder grunted uncomfortably.

 

“THOR!”

 

The older sibling finally shook himself awake then, blearily red eyes blinking into focus as he recognized Loki’s face, wide eyed and grinning, mere inches from his own.

 

Loki’s mouth dropped open in glee as the corners of his mouth heightened.

 

Thor startled back in response but before he could utter a breath, Loki exclaimed, “Mother’s returning today!!”

 

Thor blinked in response as he was still muddled and confused, his dream about wrestling and winning the championship fading from behind his blue eyes.

 

Taking a moment to process what his younger sibling has just revealed to him, a large grin formed upon his face.

 

“How splendid! ….What time will she be arriving?” Thor’s grin downgraded to a sheepish smile, his hand itching through his blonde hair, the older sibling being quite forgetful of the details.

 

Loki rolled his eyes in exasperation, “She’ll be here by three. This _means_ , we only have a couple of hours to tidy up the house before she nitpicks over the flower pot arrangement being a centimeter off than where it once was.”

 

Loki hastily got up from Thor’s bed, eyeing his brother’s room from the doorway. He picked up a lone tree branch, soggy at the ends with bark shedding from its skin.

 

“Speaking of, you really should clean up this shit,” Loki mentioned with disgust, the other end of the stick dangling up a pair of dark blue boxers. Loki looked sideways at Thor. “Really? The hamper is like three steps away from here.”

 

Thor had the audacity to smile, then.

 

“You know me, it’s three steps too far,” the elder replied, chuckling lightly. “I’ll clean it up though, you are right.” He stretched, arms over his head, cracking his elbows. “Only a couple of hours you said?”

 

Loki shook his head, “Yeah, and with the state of your room, you’re going to need four hours and a bulldozer to really clean up this mess.” Loki blushed lightly however, as his room was untidy as well, even if only one eighth as bad as Thor’s.

 

“But first! We eat like champions!” Thor declared, roughly getting up from the seam of his mattress, practically tripping over the bedspread. “Oomph!”

 

Loki was already down the hall by then, but he couldn’t help but smirk over Thor’s ridiculousness.

 

“Bet I’ll beat you there!” He hollered back over his shoulder, pausing at the top of the staircase.

 

“No fair, you’ve already got a head start!”

 

But that was the only protest Loki heard from his older brother before Thor’s rambunctious feet came pounding across the floorboards, and the two were off competing towards the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

The green-eyed adolescent stared with contempt down at his half-full cereal bowl. Thor, meanwhile, was chowing down the breakfast, spewing cinnamon in all directions, most of which landed petulantly on the black table top.

 

“Can you get any messier?” Loki asked with judgment lacing through his words.

 

Thor hardly batted an eye, used to his little brother’s antics to get a rise out of him.

 

“I’m hardly being that--” he protested, but Loki cut him off quickly.

 

“Oh, right, I forgot this table is just naturally made with cinnamon toast crunch. How on Earth could I have forgotten that?” Loki rolled his eyes, sarcasm practically oozing from his skin.

 

Thor rolled his eyes next, motioning to Loki’s hardly touched meal.

 

“At least I eat mine,” he mumbled, shoving another large spoonful of the tasty squares into his mouth.

 

Loki lurched back in surprise, Thor’s comment slicing through his brain and the shadows that had been lingering there for the last few weeks.

 

Loki had been wondering to himself for the past several days whether anyone was noticing his sporadic meal intake. It turns out, the oblivious one out of the whole family, had.

 

Loki bit his bottom lip in thought, hesitantly bringing his spoon down into the milky land of his cereal and eating a bite or two. With disgust rolling in his stomach, and his brain shouting at him to stop, he questioned Thor about how much he really knew.

 

“Please, you eat enough for thirty people.”

 

It was a weak remark, but Thor must not have noticed.

 

The elder shook his head, “Gotta keep strong somehow!”

 

Loki tilted his head, eyeing his brother who seemingly moved on from the conversation of Loki’s food intake rather swimmingly.

 

 _He must not have any particular suspicions,_ Loki thought to himself, forcing himself to eat a breakfast he hadn’t consumed in the last five days. The cereal tasted soggy and floppy in his mouth, and he swallowed its contents with much disgust.

 

He was still eating when Thor got up and placed his bowl in the kitchen sink, gathering up the might he needed to tackle the mess that was his room.

 

When no one was looking, Loki dumped out the rest of his meal.

 

 _No one has to know about this,_ he reassured himself. _It’s my little secret._ A secret that Loki could add to his list of closet kept secrets, the drawers becoming thick and bulky as he had too many secrets to keep and not enough time to sift through them.

 

_No one has to know about this one. No one at all . . ._

 

* * *

 

Bedroom door closed and a pile of dirty clothes later, Loki was sifting through his school assignments when the front door sounded shut with a bang.

 

Loki hiccupped in surprise, losing his grip on one of his folders and subsequently having some of his papers slide out and around the floor.

 

“Thor!”

 

Odin’s loud cry could be heard from across the world. Loki braced himself, tension settling in his shoulders as he listened closely to what was going on downstairs.

 

Thor murmured something in response to their father, but it was too low or Loki was too far away to hear it clearly.

 

It sounded like father was upset about Thor’s lack of caring when it came to doing the dishes, so Loki sighed to himself and brought his attention back to the scattered papers on the floor.

 

Loki picked up his one drawing from the start of the school year, and smiled forlornly.

 

 _This will be a nice piece to finish,_ he thought, tucking the artwork into a small, chaotic pile a few feet away.

 

Loki continued going through his schoolwork and finishing up some skipped questions when Thor popped his head around the door.

 

“Do you ever knock?” Loki asked, staring up at his brother expectantly.

 

Thor hardly blushed and shrugged his shoulders instead, “Father’s in one of his moods. Just thought I’d warn you.”

 

Loki tilted his head, Thor warning him about their father’s aggression wasn’t uncommon, in fact it happened pretty frequently, as Thor, despite the fool he is, knew Loki got more of their father’s wrath than he did.

 

Essentially Thor’s observations about their father’s moods were a warning to Loki to stay clear and stay hidden.

 

Loki nodded in understanding, “Got it.”

 

Thor eyeballed Loki’s more tidy room now, or at least tidier than his and tidier than it was that morning, even if Loki would never admit to that.

 

“Think you could give me a hand with mine?”

 

Loki smiled mischievously, “Well, I mean, I _could_ , but what’s in it for me?”

 

Thor sighed; it was always some type of ploy and exchange when he asked for favors from his brother. Thor would never admit it, but he knew Loki got that trait from their father.

 

“I do your homework for a week.” Thor negotiated.

 

Loki huffed, “Please, you’d give me all D’s if you did that. Let me sneak into a movie with you, one rated R.”

 

Thor scrunched his eyebrows. “That’s not fair; you know I can’t keep asking favors from Brandon.”

 

Thor knew Brandon Caser from the movie theater in town and on a few other deals got Loki into the movies for free.

 

The sixteen year old raised a brow, “No movie, no deal.”

 

Thor looked like he was wedged between a decision between a murder or kicking a puppy.

 

“Fine, it’s a deal.”

 

Loki smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

 

* * *

 

It was 3:15p and the boys still stood by the window upstairs in the home, watching in baited anticipation for their mother to arrive.

 

They waited and waited for her dark blue Chrysler to come down the corner of their street, edging into the driveway with ease and familiarity, but by 3:18p, there was still no sight of her.

 

“What if she’s dead?” Loki asked Thor again, fear shining in his eyes.

 

Thor shook his head, “She’s not dead, Loki. She’s late. There’s a big difference.”

 

Loki bit his lip. “But what if her plane crashed and she couldn’t phone us like those people who phoned their loved ones before they went crashing into the ocean a few months back? What if that’s what’s happened to her?”

 

Thor leaned over and frazzled Loki’s dark hair. “You’re over thinking it, brother. She’ll be in soon.”

 

Loki fell into another silence for the next thirty seconds, before doubt laced through his veins again and he was about to ask Thor about her potential, imagined death in his brain, when--the garage door sounded.

 

“Mother!!” The boys shouted in unison, Thor getting a glimpse into their young past when Loki was six years old and Thor seven, and their mother came back from a long trip and they sped down the stairs, just as they did now.

 

The two of them lounged for the doorknob at the same time, bickering lightly back and forth who got to open it first, before Loki pried Thor’s fingers from the knob and hurriedly raced down the gray steps.

 

“Mother!” Loki exclaimed, running full force into their mother’s arms.

 

Frigga Odinson, long golden hair swooping down over her shoulders and near to her hips, cradled her little boy in her arms as she nestled her chin into his shoulder.

 

“Loki!”

 

Loki felt his Mom’s embrace and felt the butterflies of anxiety disperse from his abdomen and flutter into his chest, flapping their beautifully jeweled wings and bringing such warmth, light and love into his soul.

 

At that moment, Loki felt himself steady in the world. He felt that he belonged and he felt that the shadows in his brain could never penetrate this radiating light coming from his soul. He felt gleeful and magical, all at once.

 

And of course, this is when Thor came into the hug, too.

 

“And Thor! How are you, my children?” Frigga opened her arms wider around the two teens, sharing her love with them although Loki still felt bitter about that.

 

“We are well, mother! How are you? How was the benefit?” Thor asked in a mighty roar. Loki blushed; the man never could keep his voice down, even in his preschool years.

 

“Oh, it was beautiful. So many of our guests donated contributions to our non-profit, and we are working stronger and more determined than ever to get awareness spread about our mission. We’re hoping by the end of this year to expand our growth to other states across the nation,” Frigga gushed with pride and strength, her face lighting up discussing her non-profit organization dream.

 

“And then the real estate market is looking up now, too. So we’re projecting we’ll be in good standing for nationwide recognition as soon as this time next year. Oh, I’m so proud of you young men! How have you two held up while I was away?”

 

She reached over and pinched their cheeks separately, and the two groaned in disagreement together.

 

“Mother, please,” Thor protested, rubbing his sore cheek.

 

“We’ve been well,” Loki assured, although his voice hadn’t the heart to lie to his mother so directly.

 

Thor took it away, jumping into another spiel about his championship over his wrestling opponent--yes the same story as before--while Frigga eyed Loki in motherly suspicion.

 

Loki changed his gaze from her to the ground, zoning out from the conversation, as the family began to catch up, and Odin appeared from the back of the Chrysler to help Frigga with her suitcases.

 

Loki knew, even as he ascended the stairs that middle afternoon that dinner and his new habits were going to be a hell of a force to reckon with. With their mother back home and her knowing eye on him, he’ll have to do a better job of keeping his secret safe.

 

Unfortunately for the young teen, he didn’t have a doubt there’d be a problem with that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original A/N: 
> 
> Hey everybody! So, I super hope you enjoyed this chapter, longer for everybody, hooray! I'd also like to say that this was very fun to write, especially the part of Frigga's return home, because it made me laugh writing about how the boys reacted to their mother coming home. :) I hope you laughed or enjoyed it too!!   
> There's also a bunch of family, Loki/Thor interaction here too, as we haven't had that in a while. I'm hoping to work on the next chapter of Frigga's return and the dreaded dinner after this, and I think I have a couple other plot bunnies in my mind for upcoming chapters too. 
> 
> So, I super hope you love this and it holds you over for a little while! Thank you everyone for your reviews and sharing your thoughts, both officially and through guest posts!! You all are amazing and I appreciate every single one of you. You give me the inspiration and the determination to keep writing this story and see where these fellas take me! :) 
> 
> If I haven't already mentioned, I'm anticipating by chapter 20 we'll start introducing the other avengers into the party, so hold on tight until then! Have a lovely weekend *hugs* 
> 
> Originally written: 6.29, 7.1.2016  
> \---  
> Second A/N as of April 2019: Hi again, I'm in the process of re-reading this story, revising some chapters and potentially changing around the last two ( Chp 13 & 14) that I had posted on FF.net so as to help myself get back into this story and all that I want to achieve with it. I'm also in the process of updating it onto my AO3 account too. So, beware of some changes to come in the future. Thanks for reading!! xxx


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Eating Disorder details and suicidality mentioned in this chapter. You have been warned.**

 

They were all together, amidst one another’s company, a true family once more. The gold borders of the pale blue walls practically shone in brightness at Frigga’s return. The television, which lay in silence, flickered with moving images of an action packed movie. The occupants of the room, however, were not engrossed in its display of bright lit flames and indestructible cars. Rather, they were keen on one another, soaking up the presence of each other as a dragonfly soaks up the rays of a rising sun.

 

Thor, whose hairy leg extended from his pair of red shorts, laid one leg over the dark arm of an ass-sucking chair, his other leg rooted to the ground like a tree.

 

Frigga and Odin were sat snuggled close on the equally black couch, their fingers intertwined as married couples tend to do.

 

And, Loki, he sat by his lonesome on the floor of the living room, just around the corner of the glass table, listening intently to his mother’s stories about the business trip she had been on.

 

It was early in the evening, nearly six o’clock, and Loki could feel his stomach growl lowly from the hunger that clung to his meek shoulders almost daily now. He bit the inside of his cheek absent mindedly, watching as his mother smiled with pride discussing her non-profit organization in further detail.

 

“We are making great strides in spreading awareness surrounding mental health issues,” she exclaimed happily, “the statistics of our aid has shown that more people are reaching out to us to share their stories than what has been done by any other non-profit. All of our volunteers are such kind souls, we’re so happy to have them offering their time with us in _Soul Search_ , between lending a kind ear to getting all technological with the means by which they share our soul’s stories. Without their hard work, I can’t imagine how we could be launching this project into the nation so soon. We’ll be yet another service for people who are struggling with their mental health issues, and we’ll be there for them to help raise awareness in their community.” Frigga smiled warmly, the hope in her eyes dancing lightly.

 

Thor grinned in equal measures of pride and honor for their mother, soon exclaiming, “Mother, what great work you are invested in! We knew you could do this!”

 

Frigga turned her gaze to Thor and then to Loki, admitting with a small blush, “You all did a great part in boosting my confidence to spread awareness about this mission. It is so heartbreaking to hear some of the stories our callers go through, with their families being unaccepting or aggressively judgmental…” Frigga paused for a moment, thinking back on some cases that stirred her with anguish and anger. “…However, without all of your support, I couldn’t have made it this far. Truly.” She turned to Odin then, nuzzling her nose to his, although the older man protested sheepishly.

 

Thor roared into a cheer, with Loki rolling his eyes and laughing at him.

 

“We are all mighty and strong! We shall crush the source of mental illness for all those who come across its path. We are no family of weakness!” Thor fist pumped the air heroically.

 

Frigga frowned in response, although Odin imperceptibly nodded his head in affirmation.

 

“Thor,” Frigga’s eyebrows raised three inches up her forehead, “No one is weak for having a mental health issue. Remember how I’ve advised you about your words? Do keep that in mind, more, my son.”

 

Thor blushed lightly, bending his head down and letting his hands fall flatly to his sides.

 

“My apologies, mother.”

 

But Loki didn’t think he was all that apologetic.

 

Thor, he thought, could boast and laugh and cheer in triumph all he wants, but he’d never know the pain and anguish that was Loki’s existence each and every day. The younger adolescent pitied him, as Thor would likely never feel that pain in his life. Let alone for him to be able to understand it and be open to others’ experiences of such pain.

 

No, Thor was the type of boy to say things first, and think about his choices later.

 

Loki shook his head, mumbling to himself, “Mental illness can happen to anyone, Thor. You’re not immune to it just because mother does side work in the mental health field.”

 

Loki busied himself with a stray strand of string on his sleeve, avoiding his older brother’s gaze as he felt it slide sideways to him.

 

Before Thor could utter a word in response, Odin cut in sharply, “While our family may not be immune, we are certainly stronger. Knowing more of the signs of mental illness gives us a leg up from some of our other…neighbors…on the issue.”

 

“Strength, then, is subjective,” Loki countered back easily, eyes narrowing in spite.

 

Thor, trying to stave out another argument that was impending from the way his brother’s eyes turned a glassy hue and how his father’s lips tore apart and were about to rip Loki a new asshole, interrupts conceding to Loki’s point.

 

“…No, Loki is right. I misspoke. I suppose I should mind my tongue more than I do,” Thor stated quietly, frowning slightly and meeting Loki’s gaze.  

 

Loki smiled a small smile, appreciative of his older brother’s support and wisdom to admit when he was in the wrong. Maybe there was hope yet for Thor, behind all his blindingly bright stigmatization.

 

Father, however, was another matter entirely.

 

With that having settled the soon to erupt argument, Odin stood from the couch and motioned Thor towards the kitchen.

 

“It is time now for us to set up dinner, in honor of all your hard work and your return, my love,” Odin spoke softly to Frigga, his one good eye staring fondly at her beauty.

 

Frigga smiled, more than delighted to be off from cooking that evening.

 

“Thank you, my husband.”

 

Pushing Thor into the kitchen, Odin left the room and his giant ego disappeared with him.

 

Loki shifted his ankles, aware of his mother’s concerned gaze watching him dutifully.

 

“Loki, my son?” Frigga whispered kindly.

 

“Yes, mother?” Loki raised his green eyes to meet his mother’s compassionate ones.

 

“You know your father is still rough around the edges about my choice of … topic for this non-profit. But he means well, even though he doesn’t tend to sound like he does,” Frigga watched Loki knowingly, her gaze never leaving his eyes.

 

He wondered then, captured in his mother’s light, whether she knew. Did she _really_ know the secrets he kept in his closet? Or was this just a mother looking after one of her own?

 

His mother had always been keen with them as young boys, careful and sometimes slightly overprotective when it came to them getting into chaos and ruckus, even though Loki’s wild streak was dull compared to Thor’s, he still had a wicked sense of mischief that would often lead the pair into trouble. The point, however, was that their mother was very aware of any signs of illness within the two boys.

 

Mother had led a life taking care of her three sisters far before she was ready or capable enough to do so. Due to this upbringing, she was hyper aware of physical illness in her family’s home. She was so attuned to her sister Madeline, that she would get a sixth sense Madeline was getting a cold, far before Madeline even realized it.

 

As such, mother had kept this skill with her into her pregnancies with the two brothers. Only when Loki was about nine did she become more attuned to the signs of mental illness as well.

 

However, what Loki suspects is his depression, took root many years before then. For him, her awareness was too late.

 

It honored and humbled Loki that his mother could be there, early and aware, for other children out in the world, which is why he so fully supported his mother’s non-profit. But, for Loki, it was already too late. The damage had been iron wrought into his veins, into the bones of his body and the propensity for him to feel ever so worthless and unnecessary to this family’s chronicles filled him with the dread that he should just listen to the voices inside his head and end his misery already.

 

So, when his mother was looking so expectantly into his eyes, he wondered to himself whether or not she knew. Did she know of this internal war waging on between his ears? Did she know and if she knew, would she honestly care? It would just be another burden on her shoulders.

 

Loki would hear her at night, sometimes, sobbing from the misery that existed within all those souls that reached out, **bravely** sharing their stories with the world, with the organization led by his beloved mother, but the toll it took on her at times was great. Loki would hear her crying in the middle of the night, imagining her tears rolling down her blessed cheeks, just as his did many, many late evenings.

 

To add his worries onto her would be a burden too high to bear. It was only Loki’s to bear the might of. So bear it he would.

 

Blinking back the story locked behind his lips, Loki affirmed, “Father means well, he just sucks at showing it.” The lie on his lips felt as dirty as ash.

 

 _How disgusting_ , he felt. _How truly, truly disgusting he was. Lying to his mother, straight to her face?_

 

Only to hide the truth, he told himself. Only to hide his burden from her already burdened eyes.

 

Frigga took a moment to tilt her head sideways and study Loki.

 

“And you would tell me, Loki, if you were hurting?”

 

Loki’s heart cracked a little harder at that question, for the years his mother has been asking him that in private. Thor, no doubt, would boast about his pride and joy. But Loki? Loki was a fairer type, a shyer boy, someone who kept to himself and his studies. Someone who pined after his father’s approval in such a sickeningly desperate and pathetic manner that he was sure Odin saw his behavior and was disgusted by it. Loki felt disgusted and sick of himself enough for it, and he knew Thor noticed how he acted and he was sure mother knew as well.

 

But still, Loki’s lips were sealed shut, as they had always been. Again, it was his burden to bear, his secrets to keep hidden, he could handle things on his own.

 

So he forced a smile to meet his eyes and reassured his mother, “I would dare not hide a thing from you, mother. Not something as important as my health.”

 

It was Loki’s mind that made up how his health wasn’t nearly as important as those around him. For, again, he was nothing--in a world of nothingness with a body as useless and pitiful as his own mind.

 

* * *

 

A few minutes before dinner would begin; Loki steeled himself in front of the bathroom mirror. He had slipped away soon after his lied assurances to his mother, and the sickness that rolled in his stomach could do somersaults without him knowing it.

 

He felt he had to weigh himself.

 

 **He had to**.

 

He had to know how far away he was. How far gone down the path was his brain leading him, and would there be a distance at some point that would cause him to snap to attention and run fleeing in the opposite direction? How much anguish and pain and control was he dealing with here? In this dark, ever enclosing void?

 

Loki ripped out the scale, but set it down quietly onto the floor. He quickly stepped up onto it when the digitized scale set itself to zero. If only Loki had the **power** to be **weightless**.

 

By the Norns, what a dream that was.

 

Loki bit his lip in concentration, hopping onto the scale quickly.

 

_123.2_

“Fuck!” Loki spat, stepping back off the scale, waiting for the reading to disappear before he stashed the scale back into its hiding spot.

 

He didn’t want to arise any suspicion from his family members, even if Thor was already taunting him about his weight earlier that afternoon, and now mother was searching his soul for an answer to his silence.

 

Why couldn’t they all just leave him alone? Like how father leaves him alone?

 

Why did they have to care, about a pathetic, insignificant insect like himself?

 

Loki cried out mutely, digging his fingernails into the scalp of his dark, black hair. How he wished he could just rip out his brain and stomp it to the floor, its blood and gush just exploding into the nearby walls.

 

Loki’s anguish rose and rose, like tidal waves taking him down, like a shark erupting from the water and choking back on his fat flesh.

 

 **So fat and so ugly and so disgusting**. HE was disgusting.

 

Loki’s fingers dug uselessly into his scalp even further, dragging his nails across his innocent flesh, Loki practically screamed soundlessly, trapped there in the bathroom.

 

And with no one to witness his pain, no one to understand his anguish and self-hatred…it was like he didn’t even exist at all.

 

* * *

 

The dreaded hour of dinnertime had arrived.

 

Loki sat with the full plate of chicken breast, mashed potatoes and fried rice staring back at him in a nauseating fashion.

 

Loki could feel his eyes skid across each glossy, oily piece, and he felt his hunger roar to life just as his inner disgust rolled heavily.

 

_Don’t you dare eat a piece if you want to get to 120._

 

Those were his thoughts as he stared blankly down at the food on his plate. How could his body crave such a mess of once preserved flesh and vegetables while that same body was utterly convincing him all the reasons why he should NOT dare to take a bite?

 

_Don’t you dare eat a piece if you aren’t ready to feel guilty about it for the next three hours._

 

His brain instructed him sternly, shaking its imaginary hand at him in an authoritative gesture.

 

 _Don’t you dare eat one morsel on this plate, you disgusting, fat, worthless piece of human shit_.

 

Loki swallowed hard, reflexively. How his brain could create such dark and twisted thoughts was beyond him, and his anxiety about sitting there in front of the plate of food, surrounded by other watchful eyes and more plates of food, wasn’t helping the situation, either.

 

“Loki?”

 

Someone spoke to him, then, and he quickly raised his eyes, to find his mother’s worried glance looking at him.

 

“Aren’t you hungry, my son?” She asked softly, watching him intently.

 

“No,” was his quick reply, nudging around some of the food items with his fork.

 

Frigga pursed her lips in concern, but didn’t bite into the situation beyond that.

 

She shook her head lightly and said to Loki, “Well, try and eat a bit more, my son.”

 

Loki nodded mutely, feeling his father’s eyes boring into his soul.

 

“After your brother and I cooked such a marvelous meal, it is wasted upon your bated breath,” Odin spoke harshly, shaking his head in disapproval.

 

Granted, could Loki expect anything less from his father?

 

Frigga shot a warning glare at Odin, communicating her own disapproval at her husband’s tone.

 

“It is all right, my son,” Frigga turned to Loki once again, “eat what you can. Maybe you are coming down with a cold?”

 

Loki nodded mutely again, conceding to the point before Thor opened his mouth next.

 

“Indeed, brother, you were quite wet the other night when you went outside in the rain.”

 

Loki’s eyes darted up like a cat’s to his older brother. _Really, Thor?_  He thought to himself in annoyance.

 

Frigga jerked her head to his elder sibling, then back to Loki.

 

“Please assure me that you were wearing a coat?” Came her quick question, and by the sound of Loki’s silence, she knew he hadn’t. “Oh, Loki, you know how prone you are to sickness.” Frigga replied quietly, a frown settling in her lips.

 

Loki shrugged his shoulders, “Maybe I am coming down with something.” He bit into a piece of chicken to stop their stares from getting to him, practically choking on the meat itself. “I’ll eat a little more but then I must be off to bed.”

 

“Good, rest is good sign,” Frigga commented, scooping up some of the chicken’s sauce onto the prongs.

 

Loki nodded, forcing himself to eat bite after bite, nausea sweeping through his system.

 

With a little under half of his meal consumed, Loki trudged up the stairs once the table discussion had turned again towards Thor. At least, in Thor’s attention from their parents, Loki could get away with his secrets locked inside his closet.

 

Once Loki made it to the bathroom, he promptly discarded the calories he had taken in. While flushing his pain down the drain, the young adolescent felt hopelessness drag down his spirits. He glanced into the mirror, however, and with the angle of the light he appreciated his cheekbones.

 

 _Just three more to go, and then, then I’ll be perfect_.

 

Before Loki left the bathroom, he caught the malicious glint of the scale behind him, urging him onwards and onwards down his dark, dark path. And, for a moment, he smiled.

Maybe this is what triumph felt like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original A/N: 
> 
> Welcome back, everyone! So, I made this chapter another long one for us all :D Hooray! It lands totally as about 2,900 words, so just onto the 8th page in Word, woot woot! I'll be working on the next chapter likely next Friday-Saturday.
> 
> Unfortunately, there's been a death in my family so if things get a little back logged that might be a contributing factor. I'll also be starting a summer class in about a week, so that may cut into some of the longer updates.
> 
> However, I'm still no where near giving up on this story. I was actually listening to 'So Alive' by Goo Goo Dolls during this writing process :D I also watched some music videos and clips from the series to get back into understanding the complexities I'm using of Loki's character in this story. I've also thought planned out more of what I want to cover in this story, so that is awesome too. Been having a lot of Avengers themed dreams lately too, ahaha.
> 
> Anywho, that's all for now. I'll be cooking up a couple of the next chapters dealing with Loki's cold. Things can only grow darker from here, but they will clean up eventually, as well. I hope you're all enjoying this! And that this chapter tickles your fancy :)  
> *hugs*!  
> Chapter written: 7.8 & 7.9.2016
> 
> April 2019 A/N: Whoooop, that was a heavy chapter, huh? Oh boy, hope that you enjoyed it in some respects though! Leave me a review with your thoughts and I will eventually reply to them, really! :]


	10. Chapter 10

**Trigger Warning: Eating disorder details mentioned in this chapter.**

 

It was Tuesday when the symptoms of Loki’s cold plowed into him like the city of Manhattan.

 

He woke up in the morning with the thought that he immediately shouldn’t have done that. A headache three times the size of the sun cradled his gooey brains in a tight, tight hug.

 

His sinuses were blocked from Florida to Argentina and his eyes watered like he was perpetually in a flood. His body felt like a dead weight and he struggled with the momentum to lift his legs off his mattress.

 

When, by the fourth time he had failed again, Loki decided he’d rather just stay in bed, and let his mother’s worried gaze find him here.

 

Of course, just as his headache began to blossom and open its petals to the bright sunlight shining through his curtains, was the time that Thor decided to barrel into his room.

 

“Loki!” Thor all but shouted into the quiet air of Loki’s bedroom.

 

Loki snarled a guttural sound in response.

 

“Thooooorrrr,” he whispered in a rasp, hands like heavy weights clung to his arms as he motioned for his older brother to turn away and leave him be to die in his misery.

 

Thor’s eyebrow immediately rose in confusion. “Loki? Are you all right?”

 

Loki groaned again, his voice soft as feathers as he mumbled his response, “No, _Thor,_ I’m _sick_.” He emphasized his words precisely as he began to cough, a wet sound that catapulted from his lungs and smacked into the air around him.

 

Thor backed up in response, palms facing his younger sibling.

 

“Whoa, there, brother,” Thor may not be the sibling to get sick himself, but Loki when sick was thoroughly contagious so Thor wasn’t going to stick around for any chances that he would get ill in turn. He had a wrestling competition coming up on Saturday, after all.

 

“Would you like me to get mother?” Thor asked dumbly, already knowing his younger sibling’s answer.

 

Loki made a soft mewling sound.

 

Thor swallowed reflexively, turned around and tiptoed out of the room.

 

Loki tried not to laugh when he heard his brother holler for their mother, seemingly just down the hallway.

 

Loki tried counting to ten over and over again until his mother came sauntering into the room. He made it to his second round at number two before he heard his bedroom door click open softly and the sleek fabric of his mother’s clothing shimmy into his headspace.

 

“Loki, dear? You’re not feeling well?” Frigga cooed, one delicate hand coming to rest upon his forehead, which was hot and almost sweaty, before being retracted much too soon.

 

“Mmm,” Loki drawled, just getting comforted by the coolness of her touch. He coughed lightly, his chest rumbling in response, as a rattle of sputum knocked around his alveoli.

 

He grimaced again as his mouth was gently opened to receive the thermometer his mother had been quick to be prepared with.

 

After a short moment, Frigga took the item back, noticing with concern that his temperature was a high one hundred and two degrees Fahrenheit. 

 

“Allow me to get you some cold towels, my son,” Frigga whispered, laying a hand upon Loki’s cheek before scurrying out of the room to fetch her needed supplies.

 

Loki huffed underneath his breath before he sensed another, cooler presence in the room. He shifted to his back, eyelids slanting open to peer out and see his father. A beat in silence occurred; until Odin came to tilt his head and tsk, tsk lowly.

 

“My son, how is it that you wind up so often in these predicaments?” Odin’s voice carried a heaviness that Loki could only interpret as shame.

 

His green eyes narrowed at his father.

 

“Maybe just to spite you, father,” Loki flashed a sneer at him, of which Odin’s shoulders merely sagged and he sighed deeply.

 

“Drink this, my son,” Odin’s voice cracked at the end of his sentence, as he held out a glass of Emergen-C water. It was from one of those packets claiming to work against sickness that Loki knew was more of a scam than practical as he began to voice to his father.

 

“You know, technically--” Loki protested, but Odin served him a stare that meant no funny business.

 

Loki smacked his lips closed, then reluctantly wrapped shaky hands around the cool glass.

 

As he began taking small sips, mother returned to the room with cold rags. She shot a glance towards her husband, hoping he hadn’t provoked their boy in any way, then reached out and slid the towels onto Loki’s forehead and around his armpits.

 

Loki managed to blush profusely as he lay in a swan position on his comforter, rocking with small shivers as the chills began to sweep him up and his father looked at him with almost malice.

 

He wanted to chide his father more, get him to snap because, well, if you can’t beat your enemies, join them. But he knew his mother wouldn’t agree, or worse wouldn’t understand, so he kept his mouth shut and listened to her sing quietly to him as she encouraged him to get more rest.

 

He slipped into an uneven slumber before his heart could convince him otherwise.

 

* * *

 

Loki awoke groggily at noon, a small table lying over his lain form where a bowl of chicken noodle soup rested steamily.

 

The young adolescent swallowed reflexively.

 

How could he possibly eat this? After all the good he’s done in the weight he’s lost, how could he possibly forfeit his good work over a bowl of god damn soup?

 

Loki swallowed again, the house was empty.

 

Thor was busy at school not paying attention, mother and father were both at work, and Loki had been left instructions on how to care for himself on a floral notepad. He knew the instructions by heart now, as being sick was his natural territory. He hardly needed to remember which vial of medication to slurp down and which to avoid. He appreciated his mother’s caring however, which is why he never said anything…about anything.

 

This is exactly the reason Loki made up his mind, climbed slowly out of bed, and trudged to the kitchen to dispose of his ‘meal’.

 

He couldn’t let his hard work be for naught. He had to keep fighting, he had to keep on losing the weight, he had to become better and perfect and loved and worthy.

 

All of which he was not as of yet.

 

He glanced at the bathroom as he passed it again, and decided to check on his weight once more. As he hopped on, the digital meter blinked one, two, three times before showing him the results:

 

122.4

 

Loki practically hissed and squealed at the same time. Hissed, because it was only a pound lower than a few days ago, and squealed, because he was lower already. He would attain his goal, which he had marked on paper on the back of his calendar.

 

He lifted up the kitty calendar and stripped the sticky note from its holder, re-circling the number that lay before him:

 

115

 

His green eyes glistened with water, as he imagined the fat slopping off of him and turning into a beautiful man respected by all that failed to notice him now. He would be glorious, he would be wanted, needed, and most of all, he would be loved.

 

This was his purpose. This was his dream.

 

Now it was time to make it a reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original A/N:   
> Ohmygod. I am sooooo sorry it’s been SO LONG since I updated this. I legit had the first four paragraphs written up July 10th 2016 and then proceeded to get stuck indefinitely. It didn’t help that by the fall I got some concerning reviews that put me off from writing this content for a while, as well as the fact that I became unwell again myself. 
> 
> Regardless, in my three day long writer’s block, I have RETURNED with this update!! I hope you guys enjoyed it, oh, us Loki hurt/comfort’s we are! And that you stay tuned. I will not give up this fic, not ever!  Thank you for reading!! And please leave a review, thank you!! *hugs*   
> PS This chapter was written with the background song "Recover" by Natasha Bedingfield which you will see again in the future. :)
> 
> Chapter written: 7.10.16 & 8.20.2017
> 
> April 2019 A/N:
> 
> Ooof, I’m getting close to the chapters where things get even darker, and is it messed up for me to say I’m really looking forward to it? Just such heavy foreshadowing that I’m keen on re-reading. I’m hoping that I’ll be able to revise/write up the next few chapters today too, hopefully. Hopefully. 
> 
> Leave me a review of what you’re thinking about this story, please! :D   
> See you soon. xxx


	11. Chapter 11

***Trigger Warning* Eating disorder details mentioned in this chapter.**

 

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

 

Loki awoke suddenly, bolting upright in his bed, his mattress dipping beneath him making him feel subconsciously too large. Tears appeared in the side of his vision, his green eyes sparkling in the darkness, the moonlight shifting behind his dark curtains and wavering into the windowed glass.

 

His heart thudded in his chest, shaking his ribcage, uncomfortably.

 

His gaze glanced to his alarm clock, the numbers angrily glaring back at him.

 

_4:23AM._

 

The young adolescent wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve, a yawn stretching out of his maw and encircling the air around him. Like a ghost, the teenager’s pale skin glistened with sweat as he tried to identify the source of the noise.

 

“Loki!” The adolescent heard a distinct hiss seemingly coming from outside his window. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

 

“Loki,” the hushed whisper came once more, a slight tapping noise once again accompanying the disembodied voice.

 

The teen’s green eyes tilted to the right.

 

Loki sat comfortably in the pause between the moment the tapping ceased and the next whisper that collided into his bedroom window.

 

“Loki,” the voice began, and before they could utter yet another syllable--Loki cut them off.

 

“Thor.” Loki deadpanned, elbows coming to rest upon his chest.

 

Loki heard a shuffle and a groan from the oak tree outside his window that the mighty Thor was resting upon.

 

“You’re going to break the tree,” Loki murmured impatiently, eyes rolling sideways to see the top of Thor’s blonde head peak up from the leafless branches.

 

“Am not,” Thor mumbled, tongue licking the corner of his mouth as he looked petulantly over at Loki.

 

“Is there a particular _reason_ you’re outside my window at four AM, _Thor_?” Loki’s serious gaze fell again upon his brother.

 

Thor grinned, cheekily.

 

Loki’s eyes narrowed considerably.

 

“Ohohoho no, I _know_ that look,” Loki shook his raven haired head back and forth. “You are _not_ putting me back in that situation again.”

 

Thor’s smile grew by the yards.

 

“Oh, why, whatever do you mean, brother dearest?” Thor feigned a damsel in distress expression. Loki would never tell him to his face but Thor was disturbingly great at doing that.

 

Instead, the younger sibling merely humphed his displeasure and shifted his weight to the bedroom’s door, mouth falling open to holler for their mother.

 

“Wait, wait, wait!” Thor exclaimed all of a sudden, hands coming up in a placating fashion. His balance on the thick tree branch shook as his right sneaker temporarily lost its grip on the nestled crooks and edges of the bark.

 

As Thor’s eyes widened in surprise, Loki had the briefest of moments to turn his head back to his older brother before he leapt to his feet and ran to his window.

 

“Thor!” Loki had enough time to exclaim in fear before his brother’s blonde head disappeared in a disgruntled heap.

 

As if it were occurring in slow motion, the sound of Thor’s eventual descent ending with a groan and flurry of swears met the hollows of Loki’s ears.

 

 _Shit_ , Loki thought as time whirled by him slowly.

 

Deciding the stairs would take too long in his desperate attempt to reach Thor sooner; the younger teen instead jostled his two story window open and expertly climbed down the old branches. Unlike Thor, Loki was pretty good at both concentrating and climbing trees, a talent Thor considerably lacked. Especially since this wasn’t his older brother’s first time falling out of this same exact tree, no less. When they were younger, they had made a bet on who could climb the tree and make it into Loki’s bedroom the fastest and just like now, Thor had overexerted his balance and had dislocated his ankle--thoroughly putting him out of his football career and instead opening the door to his wrestling debut.

 

Since then the boys had been under a more level-headed watch by both Odin and Frigga--but, boys will be boys, and Thor and Loki were no exception to that rule.

 

Sure, Loki was more likely of the two to quietly sneak off and into the sticky comfort of a pine tree’s embrace or snooze happily along a maple tree’s arms with a thick book in his hands--it didn’t mean Thor was immune to foolish ideas and attempts to “live on the edge.”

 

By the time Loki made it to his brother--likely only a minute or two after what he silently judged to himself as “the plunge”--mother’s bedroom light flicked on and Thor lay in a leafy bundle grasping his painful limb.

 

“You fool!” Loki admonished, placing a lighthearted hand on Thor’s nearest shoulder. “How bad is it?” His green eyes filled with concern as they flitted over every inch of Thor’s body.

 

Thor, smile forced and nearly broken, laughed beneath his breath, although it came across like a groan.

 

“I-I’m okay,” he lied through his teeth.

 

Loki rolled his eyes.

 

“Neither your teammates nor the rest of the high school are here, Thor,” Loki uttered quietly, already hearing one of their parents upon the stairs. “You can be honest…” _With me_ was not mentioned by Loki’s lips but they were heavily implied.

 

Thor’s smile flickered at that. He looked down at his ankle, thankful it wasn’t as bad as the dislocation had been years ago, but uncertain as to whether this new injury would put him out for the season.

 

“I-I can’t miss out on the match,” Thor muttered, a defeated look appearing on his features. Loki knew it was the match that could get Thor one step closer to winning a scholarship for college. It was something important to him, something father had been drilling into Thor practically for years now. Thor couldn’t--absolutely could **not--** miss out on what could possibly be his only ticket to getting into the university of his dreams.

 

“I think it’s j-just a sprain,” Thor murmured, gaze holding steadily onto his hurt limb as though it had somehow betrayed him. In a way, it kind of had.

 

Loki frowned in what he felt was an accompanying “that sucks” expression of solidarity for Thor’s situation.

 

“Maybe if you weren’t such a big oaf,” Loki’s tone was lighthearted, meant to jest at his brother, but Thor didn’t take up the bait. Instead he just stared brokenly at the ground.

 

Loki had no doubt Thor was watching his dreams shatter and fall apart around him.

 

He also knew the situation was about to get that much worse as he heard the familiar heavy footfalls of his father stomping on the frosted grass that led to the two brothers.

 

Loki patted Thor’s shoulder one more time before wrapping his arms around his waist in wait for the cold, hard stare that would emit from Odin’s scales.

 

“Thor!” Odin’s words landed wet and heavy into the air, so much so that Loki could practically see the weight of each syllable as they collided around him and Thor.

 

“My son.” Odin had the gall to sound wounded as he reached the boys and took in the situation. Right away his gaze snapped to Loki, as if he were the more honest of the two which Loki took into consideration to be useful later. “What has happened?”

 

“For reasons I know not, Thor has fallen from this tree,” Loki said, an unspoken “again” filtering into his voice as he waved hastily towards Thor.

 

Odin’s stare bore into Loki for a second longer than necessary before, like a serpent, his rage clouded eyes fell on Thor.

 

“What is the meaning of this, my boy?” Odin accused lowly.

 

“I--” Before Thor could mutter another word, Odin cut him off.

 

“Silence! I care not to hear your pitiful excuses, Thor. Get inside at once, before your mother finds you in this compromising situation,” Odin swung an arm wide open in the air, creating a small gust of wind that fanned out over Loki’s face.

 

Loki moved to help Thor up, but a low growl from Odin’s parted lips caused him to straighten up almost reflexively.

 

Thor, nearly drowning in his shame, hopped up to his feet and lightly limped through the grass and back up to the house.

 

Now alone, Odin settled his attention back onto Loki, whom wanted nothing, but to run away and hide forever.

 

“Was any of this your doing?” Odin said darkly, a shadow passing over his face.

 

Loki’s expression turned to hurt before he had time to conceal it.

 

“No, father,” Loki heard himself saying, shaking his head in disbelief as he was surprised Odin had taken to the notion that somehow this situation had been his fault entirely.

 

 _Maybe it was?_ The thought creeped into the front of Loki’s mind like a blackbird flying across the sky; he frowned in consideration as Odin’s words floated by him.

 

“Your brother has an upcoming match that could very well provide us a financial relief for where he wishes to attend university. I know that may not matter much to you, Loki, but we wish for Thor to do well and excel in his schooling. He doesn’t need any…distractions from attaining that goal, do you understand me?” Odin’s expression seemed to soften, although this revelation was lost on Loki.

 

Instead, the words just reverberated around and around in his young mind. To imply, by his own father, that Loki did not care about Thor sent his stomach into an awful clenching and flip flopping. For Loki to be explicitly told that Thor’s schooling mattered **more** than Loki’s, that **Thor** was the better, the more loved child than Loki, sent a rage boiling through his veins.

 

This rage was soon eclipsed by the company of shame, as Loki fought internally with himself that Thor was better than him, that Thor was more loved than Loki, and that Thor was worth more than Loki. It was as if Loki’s worst fears had been confirmed by his father’s own twisted truths that fell from his old, chapped lips.

 

Everything his brain had been telling him was not of a lie but of a truth. It was as though the leaves had parted from Loki’s vision and the monochrome view of his world through his green eyes had finally been realized.

 

Loki didn’t matter: not to Thor, not to Frigga, and most certainly not to Odin.

 

Loki was nothing; he was a mere burden, a meager sibling, a tossed aside child and there was little he could do about that. It wouldn’t matter to Odin what Loki were to ever achieve because he, inherently, did not matter.

 

It was this sudden realization that cracked the world around him in that very moment. When he went to utter a choked back cry to his father, he found him gone, almost as though he had never even existed in the first place.

 

But he had, Loki knew he had because now all of his thoughts echoed the words of his father. His brain echoed and echoed words that father hadn’t even spoken, words that twisted and attacked him as though he were a frightened child lost in the mini mall.

 

 _Worthless. Burden. Nothing. No one. Tossed aside_.

 

Loki’s shaking hands came up to hang in the cool temperature surrounding him. He didn’t know what he was doing with his hands, didn’t recognize the release of water from his eyes or the taste of coppery blood from his chewed upon lips, let alone the feeling of skin touching skin as he pulled his hands down from the sides of his fatty cheeks.

 

So. Much. **Fat**.

 

He had to restrict. He had to. This wasn’t about just losing weight anymore. This was about becoming _desirable_ , this was about becoming _loved_ , becoming MORE than what he was now--which was nothing.

 

He wasn’t loved now. He just, plainly, wasn’t.

 

But with thinness, he could be loved. With thinness came concern and compliments and attention. With thinness came being better.

 

And he had to become better than Thor.

 

Thor would understand, he always would understand Loki even better than mother and certainly better than Odin ever could.

 

Thor would want Loki to do this. Thor would want his little brother to be happy and being thin was going to make Loki happy. Loki was going to become a better version of himself--a thinner, better, happier version of himself.

 

He just had to start restricting.

 

And through his restrictions his freedoms would come. And what better freedom could he ask for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original A/N: Hello everybody!! Welcome back to this fic with a LONG, updated chapter!! I worked on this fic on the following dates: 10.14, 10.18, 10.28 and 10.29.2017. I have a couple of things to say in this author’s note so bear with me! 
> 
> First: I apologize for the length of time it’s been since I last updated. I was actually in the hospital for a month from Sept. 18th to the 20th of October. I know, LONG. 
> 
> Second: This fic is going to keep on getting darker, sad to say it! I wanted there to be a specific reason for the side plot of Thor’s previous ankle injury and in my haste to research it, it just doesn’t pan out the way I wanted it to. I would have taken it out but it became somewhat embedded in the story this chapter so I’ve left it in, sorry about that! I would absolutely LOVE to hear what you guys are thinking about this story.
> 
> Particularly, how would you guys feel about Jane being involved in this story? I have a good idea of how I’ll be using her and Thor could use the extra social support for when he finds out (later) about what Loki is getting…involved with. 
> 
> I would also like to add that if you have any ideas on OC’s such as names, personalities, quirks and mental health conditions, do leave them in the reviews or in private message to me! When we do rear closer to the 20’s chapter I’m going to need a lot of other characters to work with. Of course, that is when the “Avengers” characters will come into play and I’ve got a timeline working out in my mind. 
> 
> I will be withdrawing from school this semester and obtaining a part-time job and I want to say that I will be working more on this fic as well as other fics during this break from school. Anywho, I’ve said enough!! 
> 
> R&R please! I look forward to your messages.    
> Take care and stay safe! 
> 
> April 2019 A/N:
> 
> Man, this chapter is rough but on the plus side, I totally remembered two future scenes I want to cover so I have more inspiration and creativity flowing through me than before I started re-reading these chapters, so, hooray for that!! Let me know in a review what you’re thinking about this story and the chapters thus far that I’ve updated you all on. :] 
> 
> Stay safe!! xxx 
> 
> PS Odin's a dick, huh? XD


	12. Chapter 12

***Trigger Warning*: Eating disorder details & suicidal themes.**

 

 _Become better than Thor,_ his brain told him. _Just become better than Thor._ That is all he had to do. He just had to be better than his older sibling.

 

Of course, most things in Loki’s life didn’t come easily. So, why had he thought this would be any different?

 

He wasn’t sure, but the uncertainties of this very large task nearly hit him in the face as mother held an ice pack to Thor’s afflicted ankle.

 

“It looks to be a mild sprain, my son,” mother said, concerned eyes scanning her elder son’s limb. “What were you doing up in that same tree again?” Her gaze lifted to meet Thor’s blue eyes.

 

Thor, not one to be squeamish, uncharacteristically swayed under the scrutiny of her stare.

 

“It…was just a dare.” He mumbled sheepishly.

 

Her brow easily raised in question.

 

“Did Loki--”

 

“No!”

 

Before her accusing eyes could find the younger boy, Thor cut in sharply. Loki gave his brother a look of wonderment and gratitude.

 

 _At least one of us won’t be so quick to blame me,_ he quickly thought. His own brows rose to see where Thor’s lying tongue would lead him.

 

“I mean, no, mother. It was just a silly dare from Fandral. He…said I’d win five bucks if I stayed up there through the morning sun’s rays,” Thor shrugged and Loki couldn’t help but smile at the improvement in Thor’s storytelling.

 

Frigga patted Thor’s shoulder.

 

“Only five dollars? I’d expect you to be greedier, Thor.” Frigga turned towards Loki and winked at him.

 

Unfortunately, the shadows blurred out his vision so he couldn’t read the expression on her face.

 

Did it matter, anyway?

 

He sighed, opting to spend the next few moments watching mother expertly wrap Thor’s foot in an ACE bandage rather than wallowing in his thoughts.

 

He glanced over to the nearest clock, recognizing it was time to get ready for school. He silently excused himself and climbed up the stairs with his fingers trailing along the wooden banister.

 

By the bathroom, he found himself lingering.

 

Before he could change his mind, the knob was in his hand and he was pulling the door closed and was stepping onto the scale.

 

It took a second.

 

119

 

Loki muffled a half-formed sob.

 

He was **so close**. So close to being better, being loved, being worthy, being important. Just four more pounds and he’d be worth everything.

 

A thought popped into his mind and he found himself staring at the bottles in the medicine cabinet.

 

His green eyes took in the names on each orange container: Thor, Loki, Loki, Loki….Henry.

 

He blinked once in confusion until his brain produced the past images of Grandpa Henry being temporarily handicapped after a back surgery and how he had recuperated at their home for two to three months.

 

He remembered Grandpa Henry using a walker and mother having to help him get up, bathe and even roll over to his side.

 

He’d thought the remnants of those memories, Grandpa’s cane and his old medications had been long forgotten.

 

But, here resided one of those items.

 

Now that Loki knew it was there, he couldn’t help but reach out and grab the container.

 

It was…odd. Normally mother would have emptied out the majority of the medication containers, but this one…she had left intact.

 

Loki’s eyes scanned the label as his grip tightened.

 

 _Oxycodone, 5 mg_.

 

**ODINSON, HENRY.**

_Enclosed are 25 white, round tablets with K 18 written on them._

 

**In case of suspected overdose the following symptoms may be present: respiratory depression, skeletal muscle flaccidity, cold and clammy skin, constricted pupils, bradycardia, hypotension and death. Report all cases of overdose to emergency services.**

 

“Loki!” Frigga’s voice suddenly called to him.

 

Blinking his almost fogged stare away, Loki quickly replaced the three year old medication into its rightful place.

 

He closed the cabinet and with turmoil rising in his chest, he locked his eyes with his reflection, a grim frown meeting his gaze.

 

_Not today._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original A/N: Phew! This is my second update of the night, my first being “Severed”! It’s legitimately taken me about 3 months to update this fic--with content that I created those 3 months ago… My bad. I will be working on this fic again soon, so expect an update within a month! I am also updating: “A Little Unsteady”, “This Would Be The End” and “Severed”. I don’t think I have to tell you guys the direction this fic is going in, I will promise it gets brighter though! (I just read the ending of the last chapter and cried!  Poor Loki!!) 
> 
> If you can, leave a review! They give me life, ahaha. Thank you for sticking around, I love you peeps! Xxx Oh, and this was written 11/21/17 and typed up 3/12/18. :3 
> 
> April 2019 A/N:
> 
> Yessss, I was waiting for this scene, awesome that I found it even though it’s dark and mysterious. Still, I was waiting patiently for it to appear in a chapter, so I’m glad it happened now. I’m thinking I will have to revise the last two chapters I wrote way back when, so I’ll be working on that tonight. Also, sorrrrry for uploading legit like 7 chapters all at once today on AO3. Myyyy bad.


	13. Chapter 13

***Trigger Warning*: Self-harm, eating disorder details & suicidal themes are present in this chapter. **

Loki couldn’t help but smile when he heard Thor’s limp step coming into rhythm with him. They walked side by side, Thor slightly behind him for a few moments before Thor, blue eyes sparkling, smiled and lurched forwards.

 

“So, do you want to know what I was _really_ doing up in that tree?” Mischief twinkled in his eyes, something that rarely ever occurred.

 

Loki raised a brow in question. “Come on, Thor, we **both** know you’re going to crack like a thrown egg and tell me anyways.”

 

Thor laughed; arms pin wheeling backwards as he almost lost his footing. Sheepishly, his cheeks reddened in embarrassment as the smile soon returned to his face.

 

He made a motion of zipping up his lips but then unzipped them again as his cry slapped the air.

 

“I was there because I was going to give you the 401 that IIII…now have….a girlfriend!”

 

Thor’s widened grin made him look like an open-mouthed puppy.

 

Loki couldn’t help but laugh at the comparison. He shook his head and adjusted his backpack straps.

 

“Who this time?” Loki asked, playfully.

 

Thor’s smile flickered as he gave his brother a disapproving glare.

 

“You know I’ve only had two.”

 

“Is that all? I could have sworn it was more.” Loki feigned shock, tossing his hand to his forehead.

 

Thor, responsibly, shoved him.

 

“Quit it,” he mumbled beneath his breath.

 

Loki smiled genuinely. “You still haven’t answered the question.” Loki said knowingly. “Who this time?”

 

Thor’s playful personality returned. Loki wondered if it was genuine or if he was putting on a mask, too.

 

“Her name’s Jane Foster.”

 

Loki searched his memory for a Jane Foster but couldn’t come up with any matches.

 

“She sounds smart,” Loki said, marveling at Thor’s ability to capture the sight of anyone smarter than a peanut.

 

“She is,” Thor urged. “We were lab partners back in September once. Chemistry, I think it was. Don’t give me that look and _please_ don’t give me any clever puns, I don’t think I can take another one.” Thor slid a palm down the side of his face.

 

“Okay.” Loki said, pouting slightly, he had been cooking up some good ones. “Is she in your year?”

 

Thor nodded.

 

“She’ll be graduating in May, too.”

 

“Exciting,” Loki waggled his brows and Thor choked on a laugh.

 

“She’s nice; I’m hoping you can meet her soon.” Thor smiled, eyes drifting into a dreamy stare.

 

“Okay,” Loki agreed, trying to quickly displace the thought that he might not be around to actually meet her. Instead, Loki asked, “Are you going to take her to prom?”

 

Thor smiled while letting out a huge breath.

 

“Brother, prom is like six months from now. That’s too much time in advance to ask someone out to it. Besides, I don’t think we’re going _steady_ steady yet, you know?”

 

“No,” Loki summarized because he really **didn’t** know. Loki had yet to enter into any form of a romantic relationship. Hell, he even struggled with forming meaningful _friend_ ships that didn’t also happen to be friends with Thor or only knew of Loki’s existence because he was the little brother of Thor himself. Thor’s shadow was difficult to crawl away from and again and again Loki had been pitted against his brother, to be better than him, to be recognized and noticed and every time he, Loki, always fell short of that. He felt that no matter what he did, he would always be compared to Thor. He felt he would always be reminded of how much better Thor was at making friends, how much better Thor was at being popular, how much better Thor was for being able to have romantic partnerships, how much better Thor was in the eyes of their father. Loki didn’t matter, not really, not for whom he was at this given moment. Loki had to be better, better than Thor and especially better than himself right now. He just didn’t know exactly how to get there. But his brain was saying that if he ate less, if he ran more, if he became less, less than what he already was, then that would bring him some form of joy, some form of attention (though Loki hated to admit that attention played a small factor in his struggles). More importantly, being thin, being slender, being weightless, would bring him love, would bring him worthiness, and would bring him to the other side of enjoying life. Because Loki really, really didn’t enjoy life right now; he had forgotten what truly feeling alive felt like--if he had ever even experienced it before.

 

Loki just wanted to be happy: to be _comfortable_ in his own skin, to be **worth** something, to be **enough**. And being thin, he reasoned with himself, would give him that. Being flesh and bones would give him everything he so gloriously sought after. Being thin would be a way of taking up less space, because Loki didn’t really need much space as it was now, so his emotional state would mirror his physical state much more in that regard. Loki just wanted to be noticed, noticed for once in his life and acknowledged that he existed and that, yes, he was **not** Thor and he was his own person. He was his own person with struggles that not many could even dream of overcoming. He certainly wasn’t overcoming them now.

 

But in order to get to his goal weight, he had to keep strong in his restricting. Eating food was weak, it was below him, Loki did not need to eat, he could be stronger than the hunger pains if it meant he would be worthy in the end. Because all that really mattered right now was being better, finally, for once, than his brother Thor.

 

Loki wondered, then, for the briefest of moments if Thor ever wished he could be Loki. Loki was always circling around the notion that he wished he could be like Thor that he never, until now, considered the opposite may be true for his brother. However, Loki wasn’t worth much as it was now, so he doubted that his brother would find any reason to want to be like him.

 

What did Loki really have going for him? Nothing. Loki was nothing noteworthy, nothing exemplary. Loki was too much baggage in his current form. But when he could be weightless, when he could be thin, then people would notice him, then they would pay attention to him, realize that he existed and that he was here and that, maybe most importantly, that he was suffering. Because what was the point in anything at all, really? There was none. Loki wasn’t going to change any lives by merely existing. Loki had to **be** someone, be someone to be missed, before he could really achieve anything in life. Because if no one knows you exist, how in the hell of all that is earth will they be able to tune in to your message?

 

Loki was tired of being stepped on, he was tired of being forgotten about, overlooked, unknown to many. He was tired of Thor’s shadow, and he knew that becoming thinner would set him apart from Thor. It was this logic that Loki clung to. Because he had to; otherwise, what was the point?

 

Deep down, Loki knew there probably wasn’t one.

 

He carried that burden into school with him that day, not letting anyone know what was really going on inside his skull, because he was supposed to be better, he was supposed to be strong, he was supposed to have it all together. But he didn’t. He never had, he never would, and besides, no one would even notice him otherwise or even bother to ask those questions he yearned to hear so desperately: Are you okay?

 

Because, in truth, Loki wasn’t okay; in truth, he felt like he would never be okay again, and that pain encompassed his heart so tightly that he didn’t know how to live without it.

 

As he was right now, fat and ugly and **worthless** , Loki had no message to give to the world around him. He was nothing but a speck of dust on a revolving planet in the middle of the ginormous universe. If he got hit by a bus tomorrow, no one would even bat an eyelash. Especially not father. Father would probably go on as if he had never had a second son--that’s how ashamed of Loki he was. Loki would always be second best in father’s eyes, in the eyes of the very person that Loki sought the most acceptance from, he would instead be shunned, sent away, pushed afar, be nothing to.

 

So he had to starve. It’s what he deserved. Loki didn’t deserve the grace that was of being fed and having a full stomach. He didn’t deserve to fuel his body; he didn’t deserve to be pain free. He didn’t deserve to live, plainly put. So if he didn’t deserve to live and if Loki was who he was, what else was there for him to do? Eating was a privilege that Loki was never born into. It had been his mistake in the past to ever think otherwise, but now it was important for Loki to alter his behaviors, to make things in life right again. So he cleverly skipped his meals, he cleverly became accustomed to the lies that were sent from his mouth to those few people around him. He knew he had to lie and pretend that he was okay because the people around him didn’t really care for him, not truly, and they wouldn’t want to hear the depressive reel that played in his mind late at night or early in the morning when all the anxiety about eating came into his skull. Food became taunting, haunting and Loki really did crave it to some extents, but ultimately he had to be strong to not give in to the urges. He had to be strong so he could be better. Better, of course, than Thor. Thor who had everything going for him: a new girlfriend, relatively stable grades, a wrestling reputation, a scholarship set up for college.

 

And all Loki had going for himself were grades better than Thor’s but that were still met with disdain and a lack of acknowledgment. All Loki had going for himself was finding new ways to reject meals, new excuses to come up with when the few concerned eyes came rolling over to him, questioning his motivation, his eagerness to perform, to achieve his ultimate dreams. Because being thin had become a dream now--checking two, three times a day to make sure he hadn’t gained another ounce was becoming like a well-made game. Loki obsessively checked his weight in the scale at home, and he would go so far as to shove the back end of a toothbrush, free from the dentist with teal swirls at the grip, down his throat to purge what little that he did eat. He didn’t enjoy puking very much (did anyone?) and so would only use such desperate efforts if he couldn’t swerve off expectations for him to eat without raising suspicions and ultimately being found out.

 

His relationship with food, what cracked and broken of a relationship it was, had changed. It had altered and transformed into a shadowy figure that meant him ill intent, but Loki never realized this at the time. Every time his stomach growled he would wait until he was in a private, blue toned stall of the bathroom and punch and hit his stomach to make the grumbles stop. Sometimes he would hit so hard he’d leave behind bruises and somehow, for some reason, the pain made Loki feel better--for a little while, that is. Sometimes when Loki was craving more to eat, he would shove his fingers deep into the fat rolls around his torso and mutter quietly about how ugly he was and how much he didn’t even deserve to eat and how much of a waste of space he was. Everything Loki did was done with poise and purpose; he did it for himself, for his future self to be better and ultimately for the greater good. If Loki was erased from the world, he was so sure, so **convinced** that it would be for a greater purpose. Maybe, Loki would find, the ends would justify the means.

 

“Earth to Loki, are you all right, brother?” Thor cast a concerned blue eyed gaze over to his younger sibling.

 

“What?” Loki croaked with genuine confusion flicking through his face.

 

“You just really spaced out there, are you all right?” Thor tilted his head, and Loki could see beyond his shoulder the doors to the horrid place he was beginning to associate as school. His green eyes shifted to the ground before he mustered up his remaining strength and cheekily grinned at his brother.

 

“Of course I’m all right, Thor. Why wouldn’t I be?” He laughed, but without any humor.

 

Thor, with a stab to Loki’s chest, seemed to believe the lie. It made Loki feel both pride and desperation.

 

The number he was working towards now flashed through his head:

 

112

 

He could make it to one hundred. He knew it. It was time to really start cutting back on the few things he did eat.

 

Loki had also begun writing in a small spiral notebook with the things that he did eat and how many calories they would be. He kept an ongoing log and knew which foods he could get away with skipping out on and how to pretend to eat when a plate of food was set in front of him (he did this by moving around the peas with his silver fork and munching briefly on the potatoes when they were served mashed). All of these behaviors had begun to feel second nature to Loki and he was quite proud of that.

 

He didn’t know where these behaviors would lead him. But if he had known? He probably wouldn’t have tried to stop it.

 

Because no one could stop him now; and that was probably the worst part.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original A/N: 
> 
> Well, uh, this happened again! Finally got in my fanfic writing stuff again. This wasn’t quite the direction I was aiming for in this chapter and I haven’t reread my previous chapters to re-immerse myself into what’s been going on in this particular story but I did listen to some great music while writing the majority of this chapter (pretty much everything after Loki tells Thor he can’t relate to his new romantic relationship pursuits). So, yeah, that’s something. I tried capturing the angst and a bit of where this fic is continuing to go while kind of explaining and giving a deeper background into what’s really going on in Loki’s head and what some of his thought patterns are like, so I hope that you enjoy that? (That doesn’t sound right, you know.) I know I’ve been a bit slow on the gradual build up for this story and I think I still have some filler chapters to go before I introduce the other Avengers into the story. I have written up one chapter way back in November that will probably come into action around chapter 16. Until then, I shall work on this fic when I can. More updates to come on multiple stories! 
> 
> Also, though I’m sure you’ve realized, Loki’s POV of his father not caring about him and that others don’t care either is heavily skewed--likely in part to his undiagnosed depression and dealing with the eating disorder (which he doesn’t think is one yet). Also, if I haven’t mentioned it before, this story WILL get brighter, it will feature recovery and it will also have a sequel set in college.  Just saying! Okay, I’ll stop now, ahaha. I hope that you enjoyed this update! See you in the next one. 
> 
> And ABOVE ALL, thank you for reading. Leave a review if you have time, I’d love to hear from you guys!   
> Resources for suicide prevention in the US include (ironically) the song I’m listening to which is 1800 273 8255.  
> And for ED’s: NEDA.org.   
> Thank you again, for everything! 
> 
> Handwritten: 3.14  
> Typed from handwritten: 6.6  
> Written in typed fashion: 6.6  
> Edited: 6.6.2018
> 
> April 2019 A/N:
> 
> Hey guys! Almost done with uploading this story onto AO3 so that everything is finally up to date reflective of my FF.net account and this one. :] YAY! 
> 
> So this chapter wasn’t as bleh as I thought it might have been, but I think the next chapter is, so I’ll probably be re-working that one once I roll around to it. 
> 
> It’s going to be weird to be so up to date with all my stories (that I’ve published thus far that is) across these two fanfic websites. But, hopefully the gears are turning in my head and I can write more for everyone soon! :D 
> 
> Happy reading!! xxx


	14. Chapter 14

***Trigger Warning*: Suicidal themes**

 

It started with wanting to be perfect. It started with the inkling of thought that being weightless would give him worth. That being thin would garner heads to look in his direction, to see him for who he was and accept him for it. It transformed into numbers, counting, checking, weighing in, and being overly self-critical of his mistakes and dealing with hours and hours of hunger pains. He still ate, when he could, when he _deserved_ to, because it was harder and more noticeable if he gave up on food entirely. Water wasn’t something that passed by his lips often and he dealt with the headaches and dizziness that came with that issue. He wished he could give up on food entirely, but even when he scraped his fork across the dinner plate or munched mutely with dead eyes on some peas, he could tell mother was looking at him with concern and a prying eye that he didn’t want to bother deflecting.

 

So much of his life had dissolved into keeping up appearances, wearing a mask and pretending to be okay.

 

He was tired of it.

 

He was tired of pretending, of smiling even when his lips felt like they were moving wax rather than muscles.

 

He was tired of breathing. He was tired of **being**.

 

He wanted to escape.

 

Schoolwork no longer held interest for the adolescent, something he was once so passionate and absorbed in felt like watching clay dry.

 

…He had lost everything.

 

What was one more thing?

 

“Loki?”

 

The mention of his name felt like he was parting a hundred year old cobwebs clear from their nest in his head.

 

A pair of green eyes, red with lack of sleep and tearing up uncontrollably, shifted in their attention to the teacher who had asked him a question. He felt too old to be dealing with this bullshit.

 

The small nod of his aching skull was meant to signify that he was listening. Words, Loki felt, were difficult to come by these days.

 

“You haven’t worked on your assignment,” the teacher, probably in their forties, whose name Loki couldn’t care less about and of which had escaped him in this moment, stated. The teacher’s brown eyes quirked at the sides, and Loki realized, belatedly, it was because they were crooked. Loki sneered immediately with judgment coursing through his veins. And still, they continued talking to him, as if they thought they were worth his time.

 

“You were supposed to pair off into groups of four to work on the packet.” They paused for a second, eyes scrunching up at the corners. “You haven’t even completed the first page which was the homework from last week. Are you all right? Would you like to meet after class?”

 

Loki nearly snarled but kept his voice monotone and in check, despite how much pain it caused him.

 

“No.”

 

A word hadn’t felt so damaging and heavy in months for the youngster. It almost made him feel a flicker of something but what he couldn’t tell.

 

“It’s very unlike you to not complete your assignments. Is everything okay at home?” They whispered this quietly, eyes darting over to the unsuspecting but probably eavesdropping students who were quietly chattering amongst themselves about a subject matter that was so very insignificant to Loki now.

 

“Everything’s fine.” Short, clipped, simple; he wanted them to leave him alone and also wanted them to continue asking.

 

 _Please,_ he begged silently. _Please help me._

 

But the teacher just nodded instead and gave up pursuit. Loki felt contentment and a rush of desperation, wanting to plead with them, to get them to see that he was really **not** okay, but he didn’t move a muscle, and he didn’t work on his packet. The words on the white paper blurred together as his silent tears cascaded down around him.

 

His world was falling apart, and no one seemed to notice.

 

* * *

 

“You’re late.” This was Mr. Winestine, his math teacher. He was wearing a porous blue green shirt, sleeves rolled up at his elbows with nutmeg colored pants. His belt hung loose around his gut, and Loki felt disgusted for him for how fat he was.

 

Loki shrugged, aiming to itch towards his seat and sit down for a lecture he wasn’t going to be paying attention to.

 

“This is your third time late this week,” Mr. Winestine instructed, blue eyes smoldering as he crossed his arms and leveled a glare in Loki’s direction. “You know I don’t accept late students, especially when they’re repeat offenders.”

 

 **Offenders** , as if Loki were a criminal.

 

“What are you going to do about it?” Loki challenged, chin tilting upwards in defiance as Mr. Winestine blinked in confusion, alarm bells ringing.

 

Loki never talked back to his teachers, not until today.

 

“Detention, today after school, meet us by three in the cafeteria.”

 

Loki made a face of displeasure. “I’d rather not.” But he shrugged his shoulders when Mr. Winestine remained plastered between the doorway of the classroom and Loki took his time to wander around the corner of the next wall and fall to the floor with regret pooling in his arms.

 

 **Who** was he becoming? He felt lost, damaged, broken. He wasn’t himself anymore and he didn’t know if he even wanted to get himself back. Anger sparked in his line of vision as he threw his green backpack across the hallway with enough force that the unzipped portion of his bag slammed loose papers and empty notebooks across the vanilla floor.

 

What was there possibly left for Loki? He dreaded finding out.

 

* * *

 

“Brother!” Thor galloped up to Loki, who was at his locker staring blankly into its dark abyss, and tapped him on the shoulder. “You’re gonna miss our walk home.” Thor smiled even while breathless; he was so agile and…so much more than Loki could ever dream to be.

 

“Can’t.”

 

Thor’s head immediately tilted. “Why not?”

 

“Got detention; Mr. Winestine’s a bitch.”

 

Thor blinked dumbly for a moment, a hundred different alarms now sounding in his brother’s head.

 

“Don’t wait up,” Loki advised, before sauntering away with his bag on only one of his shoulders and not bothering to close his locker because, really, what was there to steal but old, soggy lunches and textbooks he couldn’t give a rat’s ass about?

 

Thor’s eyes trailed after him, still dumbfounded as to what was just happening, eyes beginning to calculate the changes that were appearing every day now with his younger sibling. He glanced into his brother’s locker before he shut it soundly and locked the green knob, spinning it around before deciding it would be better for him to wait, even if it seemed like Loki didn’t want him to.

 

Something wasn’t right, and Thor would be damned if he was going to let anything happen to his little brother.

 

* * *

 

“I told you not to wait up,” Loki muttered softly when he edged his way out of the cafeteria doors by four PM and saw Thor with his friends sitting Indian style out on the floor by the row of freshman lockers.

 

“You know I don’t listen well,” Thor said with a sparkle in his eyes as he quickly told his friends to go so he could have a word with his brother.

 

Loki sighed.

 

“I’m not really in a talkative mood,” he mentioned as a way to explain away his lack of communication as of late.

 

“Are you ever?” Thor challenged, hand coming up to rest on (what Loki hoped) was a thin shoulder. “Are you all right, brother?”

 

For a minute, Loki just stared back at his older sibling. He thought, no, he **saw** , what would happen if he told Thor the truth. There would be hell, blood and pain and probably an intervention of sorts and Loki couldn’t decide whether he wanted that or not in this very moment. Maybe it would be better to just tell Thor everything, to let it loose from his soul and open up about the darkest parts of him because he had been slowly suffering for so very, very long. Maybe Loki couldn’t handle this himself, maybe he no longer needed to. But he wasn’t sure yet if he was ready to let go of the control that had been slowly consuming him over the last few weeks.

 

How had everything gotten so wrong? How had everything turned so right?

 

He wished he could say these things to Thor, to tell him everything, but something held him back. Maybe it was because his depression had become comfortable and he didn’t know who he was without it. Maybe it was because it didn’t seem all that important, because Loki wasn’t all that important, and that he would never be all that important, anyways.

 

Whatever curse or dark magic that was occurring within his soul, he knew he had to be quiet about it. People didn’t **really** want to know what was going on with him. They didn’t **really** care, not truly. He was better off this way, better off not being a burden to those around him. He would be okay, one way or another.

 

All of this raced through the adolescent’s mind so fast that he forgot what the original question was at all.

 

“What?” he offered meekly in return, eyes blinking away the pain that lingered so heavily there.

 

“You’re not yourself,” Thor stated, eyes searching Loki’s.

 

Loki was afraid of what Thor would find in them, so he averted his gaze.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

Thor’s grip tightened in a way that wasn’t all that uncomfortable.

 

“You’re not,” Thor said firmly, eyes overanalyzing his brother. “What’s wrong, brother?” And more softly, “You can tell me.”

 

For a moment, Loki’s eyes gazed back over to Thor’s and he let out a deep breath. “No, I can’t.”

 

Thor blinked at him in a way that could only be described as another flash of confusion.

 

“You wouldn’t understand,” Loki murmured, eyes falling back to Thor’s untied sneakers.

 

“Then tell me and I’ll try my best to,” Thor urged vehemently, feeling as though he was losing his brother. “I want to help.”

 

“You can’t.” Loki’s voice hardened then, anger colliding back into his form. Why was Thor keeping up this act that he pretended to care? Why was Loki finding himself believing that he would listen?

 

But he wouldn’t understand. No one did. No one would. Loki was better off alone.

 

“Please, Loki,” Thor pleaded softly, attempting to reconnect their eyes once again but Loki was having none of it.

 

“Please, drop it.” Loki glanced over at Thor before attempting to shrug off his hand. “I’ve had a long day.” It wasn’t a lie.

 

Thor seemed to take it as one.

 

“Is this something I need to discuss with mother?” Thor asked carefully, and Loki’s eyes widened in horror.

 

“No, Thor, please,” his voice cracked and he had to swallow back his fear before he continued. “You know how she’ll react. It’s really not that big of a deal. I’m okay, see?” He lifted up his hand, grabbing Thor’s around the wrist. “Mother doesn’t need to know about this.”

 

“Not even that you’re failing half your classes?” Thor expressed with hostility.

 

So, he had looked through Loki’s things. Awesome.

 

“That’s a little overdramatic.”

 

“C’s are essentially F’s for you, brother.” Thor paused. “You haven’t been yourself lately. I’m worried about you.”

 

Loki smiled, although it wasn’t genuine. “You don’t have to be. I’m fine.”

 

Thor appeared conflicted.

 

“Look, I’ll get my grades back up but you can’t tell mother. You know how she’ll be. I’ve just been stressed with school lately, an honest mistake. I’ll do better.” Loki said all the bullshit that came to his mind in that moment and Thor seemed to take the bait.

 

“Okay,” he pronounced slowly, drawing out the letters. “But if they don’t get up before November I am telling mother.”

 

“Of course, that’s reasonable,” Loki relented, falling into place with his role again. “Can we go home now? I’m starving.”

 

Everything seemed to freeze. _Did he just say he was hungry? How could he have been so foolish as to admit that terrible secret to Thor? Would he ask further questions? Would Loki give him answers? What did he just **do?**_

 

Thor, for his part, didn’t notice. It was as if Loki had just stated that the weather was cold outside. Thor didn’t even miss a beat and just continued on chattering about some other old nonsense.

 

Loki let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and walked with Thor all the way home, only averting his gaze when he saw cars passing them quickly and he imagined himself being hit by them.

 

 _Not yet,_ he thought. _Not yet, but soon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original A/N: 
> 
> Hey everyone!! I was working on a book review when listening to the song “1800” by Logic when I got a major writing vibe for this story! Which is great because I haven’t, in the last week, been writing fanfiction again so it was a lovely surprise. I’ll be having updated chapters soon-ish on ALU and S. I hope that you enjoyed this chapter (I personally enjoyed the descriptive nature of it and I think this represents the conflicting nature of depression well. Plus I believe depression in males tends to lead to more anger responses so I tried including that in this chapter more), and I realized early on that Loki is interpreting other people’s concern as a lack of concern which I think is pretty true in the depressive headspace. So like, he feels that no one is noticing while at the same time people ARE and he’s the one lying about how he’s really feeling. It’s sad.  I’m planning that by chapter 19 we will bridge this story into introducing the other Avengers; so in the meantime, leave me a review if you don’t mind! They really help me out. And I don’t own these characters! Just the plotline.  Thank you so much for reading, fave-ing and reviewing. It means the world to me. See you in the next one! xx 
> 
> Written (in type): 6.24.2018
> 
> April 2019 A/N:
> 
> I don’t have any idea as to how I thought this chapter or the last were so cringey that I reasoned it was best to not re-read this story for the better part of nearly the last 12 months. It’s mind boggling, because it’s so important, especially this chapter which highlights how people are noticing Loki’s warning signs but he’s so deep in his mind’s bullshit that he refuses to see their concerns. And also that school is no longer a source of reprieve for him. Sigh, so sad. 
> 
> I think I’ll be working on the next new chapter within this week. It’d be nice, since it’s been so long, of course. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!!! xxx 
> 
> PS Officially we are all up to date on every published story across two fanfic websites, hooray!!!


	15. Chapter 15

 

***Trigger Warning*: Heavy discussion of suicidality, eating disorder and feels. Bring tissues, I swear!**

 

He sat at the edge of his bed, trying to will himself to pull out his homework and actually complete it this time. Yesterday he had managed to get the textbook sprawled open but today was proving to be more difficult.

 

Every breath that rattled through his ribcage came at the expense of more energy being thrusted into living and Loki despised it. He despised himself for still being around to breathe another breath.

 

He should be dead.

 

He couldn’t help but think it--it’s what everyone else in his mind was already thinking. It’s probably what everyone else said about him the moment he left a room.

 

Loki: the unwanted, dutiful brother of Thor was just another waste of space. Too fat to even consider anything less than obese. He had fat rolling off of every crevice of his skin, every lining of his muscles. He was disgusting.

 

And it all came back to that one thought: he should be dead.

 

No one would miss him. No one would care.

 

Just another soul extinguished from life too early on.

 

Strange, how emotionless, how numb he had become.

 

The weight of the world was on his shoulders and he was just about ready to heave it off. Dying didn’t scare him anymore these days, it was like a quiet understanding between him and Death, they were friends almost, but every plan of suicide felt too inconvenient for him at the moment. His thoughts were consumed by it, every waking minute felt like another minute too long. He just wanted to be released, he wanted to be free, why couldn’t he be free?

 

Tears, unwanted tears, welled up in his eyes, the only shred of emotion still left within his decaying soul. If it was because he was afraid of what lay before him, he couldn’t be sure. If it was because he was afraid of where his mind was taking him, he plainly ignored.

 

This was his life.

 

This was his end.

 

So be it.

 

* * *

 

It was October 29th when the urges to die hit him like a tsunami again.

 

Halloween was only a few fair days ahead and the pain that was roiling through Loki’s soul was becoming too much to bear alone.

 

He needed his release, but he wasn’t sure how to get it. He felt everything had just gotten worse, that his life was so completely and utterly meaningless, that his suffering was so acute that it took the breath from his lips and it made him feel like an absolute cockroach in a field of butterflies.

 

Everyone else was so pretty, everyone else was so worthy, why couldn’t he be, too?

 

The urges to take the knives from the kitchen sink and plunge them into his flesh were so bizarre, so inescapable, so tempting that he wasn’t sure how he didn’t kill himself that very evening.

 

He just knew that he had to be around for Halloween. He had to be alive to see his favorite holiday. He had to be alive just a little while longer: for Thor, for Frigga, hell, for Odin even. He had to be alive a little while longer for his family’s sake of having one more day with him in their lives before they had to say goodbye. He just had to hold on one more day.

 

He could handle one more day.

 

If he could have handled the previous days, he felt that he could handle just one more day into the future.

 

He hadn’t made his own costume for the Halloween celebrations only to die before getting the chance to wear them.

 

He had to live today.

 

Tomorrow, he could die.

 

* * *

 

Halloween: the moonlight twinkled on the fallen droplets that rained down from the sky. It wasn’t the ideal set of circumstances Loki had been praying for, but it would due for now.

 

He had become such a fragmented part of himself. His skin was paler than usual, his collarbones sticking out more prominently. He wished he could lie and say he didn’t know how much he weighed but he knew it; he knew it all too well.

 

107

 

He had consumed 262 calories that day. 345 the day before. 560 the day before that. He kept track of every little morsel that did pass between his lips. It was an obsession for him, as much as dying was--anything to put him out of his misery.

 

He wasn’t happy yet.

 

He wasn’t happy at 128, he wasn’t happy at 112, he wasn’t happy at 110, he wasn’t happy at all.

 

He didn’t know what he was doing wrong. He didn’t know where he began and Ananias ended. Ananias, that’s what he called his ED. Ananias was separate from him, something strange, dark, twisty and unkind. It wasn’t Loki.

 

Hell, even Loki was no longer Loki anymore.

 

He didn’t know who he was, he could only vaguely recall who he once had been but even that memory was fuzzy these days.

 

It was a brain fog, he decided; a lack of proper nutrients reaching his brain so that his consciousness and comprehension was subpar to how it used to be. But it was worth it, it was worth it, Ananias chanted over and over. Because being thin was worth it. Being thin was worth the pain. Being small was everything to Loki now. Everything.

 

He was nothing without it.

 

At the present moment however, Loki rolled his glassy eyes over to his older brother as they knocked on another house’s front door, dressed up in their fancy costumes and telling a tale of their characters.

 

Except Loki didn’t talk as much these days. He didn’t really see the point in it; he didn’t really see the point in most things anymore.

 

He was still light years behind in his school assignments, begging for make-up time when he knew full well he wasn’t going to make up any of his missed work. It was all so draining these days. Everything was: living, breathing, eating what few bits and pieces of food that came down his dried up esophagus. He felt like he was decaying. He was decomposing before everybody’s wavering gaze and they were too stupid to even notice it.

 

If this is what living was supposed to be like, he’d much rather not. He felt like a zombie, a vampire, a monster. He felt undead. He felt as if he was already one foot in his grave and the other was barely holding onto the edge.

 

It just didn’t seem to _matter_ anymore.

 

Nothing mattered.

 

The world would spin with Loki in it as well as without Loki in it.

 

What was the point in anything?

 

What did it matter if he ate or didn’t? He was just going to die anyways.

 

Beside him, Thor scored another round of chocolates and took off hurriedly down the street.

 

For a split second, Loki wanted to see him get squashed by a car.

 

It was mildly terrifying thinking of his brother dying but the resentment towards his elder sibling was growing each second that ticked by. Thor was so….carefree. So non-understanding. So…oblivious.

 

Loki didn’t have the strength left in him to form complete sentences. He would trail off from his train of thought so easily these days and he could only sigh in protest then do nothing about it the next moment.

 

Thor didn’t know.

 

No one did.

 

Loki couldn’t help but wish that someone would.

 

Maybe, maybe that would have made all the difference.

 

* * *

 

“Do you want my Twizzlers for your Dots?” Thor asked eagerly, eyeing his brother’s contents out of the pillowcases they’d used for bowls.

 

“You can have everything,” Loki remarked dismissively.

 

Thor’s mouth fell open in surprise.

 

“Really, brother?” He moved to gather Loki’s candy before pausing in hesitation. “Are you sure?”

 

“I don’t fucking care,” Loki hissed, turning from his sibling and heading up the stairs. “I’m going to bed.”

 

With that, he closed his door with a soft click and buried his face into his pillows on his unmade bed.

 

Keeping up appearances was getting harder.

 

But he had a new mission in mind. He hadn’t written it on his calendar officially, but he had mentally circled November 13th.

 

He didn’t think he’d ever get around to officially placing a red X on the day, it would require too much energy, but he was giddy about it. He wanted it to come now. He couldn’t wait another moment.

 

That was the day he was going to flip a coin: if it landed on heads, he was going to kill himself, and if it landed on tails, he’d try for another day.

 

A sense of calm blanketed over him.

 

He could do it. He could show them all. He would die.

 

And then, then he’d be free.

 

* * *

 

_Dear Thor,_

_If you’ve found this letter, it may not make any sense to you. I know my life was “cut short” as you’d say, but I finally found peace, is how I would reframe it._

 

Loki scratched out the note, tearing it free from the binding of his notebook, crumpling it into a ball and tossing it alongside the other drafts he’d been crafting for the first few days in November.

 

He placed his shaking black pen to the paper again and started over.

 

_Dear Thor,_

_If you’ve found this letter, I’m sorry._

 

He scratched it out again, sighing in dismay.

 

Nothing was coming out the way he wanted it to.

 

He shifted his head a little, before thinking of a possible solution. He reached for his iPod and hit play on a particular song before nudging his earbuds into his ear canals. The music drifted in and he couldn’t help but bite back a sob.

 

_Dear Thor,_

_“Were there signs I ignored? Cannot help you not to hurt anymore. There are things that we can have, but can’t keep. If they say: who cares if one more light goes out in the sky of a million stars? It flickers, flickers. Who cares when someone’s time runs out if a moment is all we are? Or quicker, quicker. Who cares if one more light goes out? Well, I did._

_And you’re angry, and you should be, it’s not fair. Just ’cause you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it isn’t there.” -- One More Light by Linkin Park_

_I start off this letter with a song that I related to more than you realized. Please don’t see my death as anything other than…_

 

Loki pursed his lips for a moment, unsure where he was going with that train of thought. He crossed out the sentence, then, skipping a line, started again.

 

_Please don’t see my death as anything other than merciful. I was in so much pain, Thor, so much pain. This is the only way out that I could envision._

_Please, don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault; you are so naïve, and I mean that in kindness. There’s no way you could have known this would happen, I was excellent at keeping secrets. If I wanted you to know, I would have told you. But I didn’t._

_Because I didn’t want you to stop me._

_I didn’t want help… I think. I just don’t think I was ready to give up the lies and the darkness. I wasn’t ready to let Ananias walk free._

_I fear I’m not making sense, but maybe that’s closer to the truth than I realize. Because life is cruel, life is the one who doesn’t make sense. Life is the one that caused me so much irreparable pain._

_But if you’ve found this letter, it means I am no longer in pain._

_I wish you nothing but the best, brother. For now, I have another life to lead._

 

_Goodbye only for now,_

_Loki._

 

Loki tore out this page and folded it up into a neat and tidy square. He gently placed it alongside some of the other notes he had guiltily written, mainly for his teachers.

 

He doubted they’d ever get into their hands but it made him feel a little better to write them out and praise them for all that they did right rather than focus so peculiarly on what they missed that went wrong.

 

He felt the urge to write Frigga’s but his heart felt heavy and his breath couldn’t leave past the knot in his throat.

 

He was the most anxious for mother’s letter.

 

What could he say to her when he was no longer there to comfort her? What hope could he offer her when her world turned dark? When her second son was ripped away from her?

 

Loki bristled at the notion--did this mean that in some hidden part of his brain he was unaware of that he realized he mattered to mother after all?

 

He laughed.

 

Now, **that** was a funny joke.

 

But in all seriousness, he felt that today wasn’t yet the day to write to mother. Nor father either.

 

Instead, he slid his perfectly made squares into the bottom of his underwear and sock drawer, nestled into the hard wood like a monkey to a tree. He hadn’t decided yet where he would leave them, perhaps on his bed as he carried out the deed. He felt a sprinkle in his step when he wandered away from his bedroom that evening.

 

Maybe things were going to be all right after all.

 

Just with one less Loki in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: 
> 
> Okay, I know this may sound a bit incomplete but I think I’m stopping here for now for this chapter and start off the next one also today, which would be great. This was definitely a heavier chapter than most (maybe in contender with Chp 6 actually) and I FELT each blow from scene to scene. I was actually listening to “Hold On” by Chord Overstreet for the duration of this chapter which was helpful if that makes sense. Like, it set the mood, you know? 
> 
> I have ideas for what Chp 16 will be and where I can take it largely in part from some plot holes that some awesome person pointed out on AO3. And I just realized how fitting it would be in this story and it made me cry a little. 
> 
> So, hold on just a little while longer because things are going to get better!!! I know this chapter was hard to read, especially since there are a few people out there who can relate to mental health stuff like me, so please take care of yourselves and practice some self-care for the rest of the day!! I also find it intriguing how much of my own story plays out in this fic. It’s interesting how much we can convey of ourselves through fictional characters and plots. 
> 
> But any who, I’m going to go, please take care of yourselves and know that the suffering you’re going through is temporary! No matter how dark it gets, the sun will shine and rise again. xxx 
> 
> USA suicide prevention hotline: 1800 273 8255   
> ED website: NEDA   
> USA mental health conditions and suicide prevention organizations: NAMI and AFSP  
> Thank you to Chord Overstreet and Linkin Park for their musical inspiration. I don’t own any of the lyrics or the characters; I just like to dish out a lot of shit for Loki to deal with--sorry buddy!! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. Leave me a review if you can, I do take them under consideration and I like interacting with you peeps. :] 
> 
> Written: 4/3 and 4/4/2019
> 
> PS I should clarify: If you know me or have heard of me from my IOOV presentations, I am okay (safe) myself, I've been super stable and out of the hospital for the last year! I go to a day program MWF which helps a ton! So, I'm okay, in case any of you were concerned from some of the themes in this chapter. I hope you're okay, too!! xxx


	16. Chapter 16

***Trigger warning*: Brief reference to weight and suicidality**

 

“Have you spoken to Loki?” Mr. Winestine asked Ms. Pirelli, hands wrapped around his mug of hot chocolate, trying to keep warm. The weather was starting to turn bleak and bitterly cold for the start of November and Mr. Winestine was not looking forward to shoveling snow in the Connecticut breeze.

 

Ms. Pirelli pursed her lips and shook her head lightly, scattering the flakes of dandruff free from her scalp.

 

“He hasn’t been turning in his work lately,” she mentioned, brown eyes struck with worry.

 

“He hasn’t been on time to my class in weeks, either,” he answered, brows drawn together in thought.

 

“Should we tell Mrs. Greene?” Ms. Pirelli asked, slight alarm raising her facial features into a cartoonish expression.

 

Mrs. Greene was the school’s guidance counselor; Mr. Winestine chastised himself when he couldn’t put the name to a clear face.

 

He sighed, taking another sip of his drink with baited concentration.

 

“I think he’s lost weight,” said a new voice, popping into the conversation.

 

Mr. Winestine’s eyes rolled over to the newer substitute teacher who had just parked himself into their (private) conversation.

 

Once again, Mr. Winestine couldn’t place the young man’s face, so he communicated this silently with his narrowed eyes and a peculiar expression knotting up his features.

 

“Mr. Joseph,” the man said, lending out his arm that Mr. Winestine only turned his nose up to and did not shake.

 

Mr. Joseph lowered his hand awkwardly, and then returned to spinning the thin red straw into his cup of hot coffee.

 

“His brother’s Thor, right? Hasn’t Loki been acting more distant and to himself?” Mr. Joseph questioned, green eyes looking back and forth between the math teacher and the English teacher.

 

Ms. Pirelli pursed her lips forwards again, looking like a duck’s bill.

 

“He’s never really had many friends,” she stated softly, afraid she was wording that incorrectly.

 

“He’s a bright young kid,” Mr. Winestine complemented. “Probably going through some hard times at home,” he reasoned, either to himself or to his other colleagues he wasn’t sure. “Mr. Odinson isn’t the kindest of souls.” He reiterated, having only met the older gentleman in a few parent teacher conferences and always having dreaded the conversation. It wasn’t that Odin was a difficult parent, it was just that he would focus so heavily on Thor’s schooling rather than his second son’s, as though he had forgotten he had a second son to begin with. Odin wasn’t great at being loving and affectionate and Mr. Winestine was afraid what kind of affect that was having on the younger brother.

 

Loki was a softer soul than Thor. Whereas Thor was boisterous and heavy headed, Loki was technical, analytical and conscientious. They were brothers all the same, but even with a year in between each other it was clear that Loki had a brighter future ahead of him as his personality wouldn’t land him in as much trouble as Thor’s. Sure, Thor was a great kid too; doing well enough in school and having sportsmanship skills that couldn’t necessarily be taught from a textbook, but Mr. Winestine had a special place in his heart for Loki, probably for how much he reminded him of himself.

 

Mr. Winestine had had to deal with being compared to his older sister and two brothers all his life. He felt some kinship with Loki in that regard. He knew what kind of hell it was to so constantly be compared to your other siblings when you only wanted your parent’s approval.

 

Mr. Winestine feared that with Odin’s strictness with Thor and expecting so much out of his older son, that this abrasive attitude towards Loki flopped more than he realized.

 

Children are not one in the same, rather unique and different in their own ways. Mr. Winestine felt that Odin was likely applying one role of being a parent to both his sons rather than specifying each treatment to each boy separately.

 

Loki was a young man who wasn’t certain of his identity yet, and wouldn’t likely come into understanding it until he was late into college. He was a more sensitive and sickly boy, and Mr. Winestine felt that Odin often forgot this or worse, overlooked it.

 

But Frigga, Frigga was an excellent mother. She had raised her kid’s right and she took such pride in both of their accomplishments.

 

Mr. Winestine was only afraid that Loki underestimated this unconditional love from his mother in order to purely focus on winning his emotionless father’s love.

 

It was a difficult predicament for certain and Mr. Winestine had often hoped that schooling provided Loki with a kind of escape that he couldn’t often apply at home. But with his grades now slipping tremendously and the obvious concern oozing from his favorite teachers, he wasn’t so sure this was something they could all battle alone.

 

There was certain strength in numbers, anyhow.

 

“Thor weighs, what, one-fifty? Loki’s already been thin to begin with but you can tell from his face that he’s lost more weight.” Mr. Joseph continued, without missing much of a beat.

 

Mr. Winestine’s frown deepened: he couldn’t help but be biased; he didn’t trust people with last names that were also first names.

 

“Hardly,” Mr. Winestine interjected, nursing his dark red mug. “He’s been wearing a lot of loose clothing lately.”

 

“All the more reason to suspect something,” Mr. Joseph responded. His green eyes poured out concern and well placed compassion. “His grades are slipping, right?” Mr. Joseph implored, even though they all knew he’d been eavesdropping from the start of this exchange. “I’m telling you, he’s looking thinner and you should probably get Mrs. Greene involved with this before something else happens.”

 

“Something else?” Ms. Pirelli squeaked in a soft voice, her brown eyes wide.

 

“Look, I know I’m new and I’m not really part of your team yet, but when I’ve seen this kind of thing play out in other school districts, well, it didn’t end well.” He gave a sheepish, firm smile as he shrugged his shoulders, sandy blonde hair bouncing. “Getting support and help involved sooner will pave the way for a better outcome than if we wait until something terrible happens. Trust me. You don’t want to wait in these kinds of scenarios. Shit can hit the fan reaaaal fast.” Mr. Joseph held up his palms in surrender, backing towards the other exit of the office space. “Just my opinion that no one asked for. Don’t shoot the messenger!” He waved before his back retreated through the doorway.

 

When Mr. Winestine was sure Mr. Joseph was out of earshot, he addressed his co-worker, “Make an appointment for Mrs. Greene and get Frigga Odinson on the line, this is something she should know about soon.”

 

With his hot chocolate becoming lukewarm, Mr. Winestine watched as the anxiety crumpled his shoulders and he bit his lip in thought. Emotions weren’t his forte. He liked math because it was calculated and finite, simple and measurable. Emotions? They were not. But he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that even Mr. Joseph picked up on.

 

Whatever was happening to his students, he wanted to know what to do to help make a positive difference, rather than be reading out eulogies at their funerals.

 

He cared deeply for his students, wanting them to excel and do well in life. The faculty hadn’t faced a student’s death since Jeremiah Ferdanez and that was well over five years ago. It still hurt to think about, even if it was a freak ATV accident. To be reminded how powerless he was to protect his students made his skin crawl--especially when it came to protecting them from themselves.

 

* * *

 

Mrs. Greene, a fair skinned redhead with long hot pink acrylic nails tapped on her keyboard as she looked across from Sunny Michelle who was a freshman at the high school, starting late as she was facing difficulty situating a home for herself with her foster parents.

 

“And you lived where previously?” She asked quietly, tongue extending over her lip in concentration.

 

“A shelter,” Sunny replied, speech thick with a Spanish accent.

 

Mrs. Greene nodded in understanding, typing in a few final remarks before setting her eyes back to the young girl before her.

 

“It’ll get easier,” she mumbled, wondering how much of her job was to introduce cliché paradigms for her students. “Does meeting with you next Friday at eleven works with your schedule?” She almost slapped herself for how petulant that sentence sounded.

 

Sunny smiled thinly but nodded regardless.

 

Mrs. Greene leaned over her keyboard, unsticking a sticky note from its holder, jotting down the date and time then extending out to Sunny a hall pass and note for her history teacher.

 

“Give this to Mrs. Railley ten minutes before your appointment to assure you have ample time.” Mrs. Greene smiled politely then waved to Sunny as she began to leave the room.

 

“Thanks, I guess,” Sunny whispered, wishing to jump her way out of the room.

 

Once the door had closed, Mrs. Greene sighed.

 

 _I don’t get enough thanks for this job_ , she thought to herself in woeful dismay. Just as she was about to start up a new document for the student who would be walking their way into her office next, she heard a clean, thin handed knock on her door.

 

“Come in,” she chimed automatically.

 

Surprisingly, in popped Ms. Pirelli’s head, white fluff and all from the cracked doorway.

 

“Mrs. Greene, do you have a minute?” She asked in a small voice, as though she were uncertain of every move she was about to make (and it didn’t pass by Mrs. Greene that this may in fact be the case).

 

“Is Thor leading the charge of a rebellion in your classroom again?” Mrs. Greene responded with jest, a smile quirking her thin lips.

 

“Ha, no, this isn’t about him,” Ms. Pirelli replied as she anxiously wrung her hands with a saddened expression flitting across her cheeks and brown eyes. “It’s actually about his brother, Loki.”

 

Mrs. Greene had been loosely aware of the younger sibling’s run-ins lately with clipped responses to staff and almost daily repeated detention slips for running late to Mr. Winestine’s classes.

 

Mrs. Greene raised her brows in question, “Oh?”

 

Ms. Pirelli chewed on her thick bottom lip. “He’s been behind in his schoolwork if he even completes it at all.” Seeing Mrs. Greene’s immediate reaction, she plowed on, “It’s unusual for him. He’s a straight A student in a majority of honors level classes. He’s always loved his schoolwork and was very attentive to detail but now he seems apathetic and….” Ms. Pirelli struggled to place the adjective before muttering out, “gloomy.” Ms. Pirelli huffed under her breath, concern filling her eyes.

 

“Have you spoken to his parents?” Mrs. Greene asked her cautiously.

 

“Not yet,” Ms. Pirelli explained. “We were hoping you’d know what to do?”

 

Mrs. Greene’s gaze shifted to the doorknob behind Ms. Pirelli.

 

“Has he been isolating?” she eventually asked, getting her jaw muscles to unhinge from their locked position.

 

“He didn’t have many friends to begin with,” Ms. Pirelli inclined. “Though he’s not been working with his peers on assignments, I’ve heard from other teachers.” Her worried gaze furrowed further. “Do you think there’s something wrong?” she asked quietly, her voice small again as though she were trying to shrink back into her skull like a turtle.

 

“Could be a number of things,” Mrs. Greene responded with. These were delicate matters that required delicate approaches.

 

“Call his mother and report your concerns and in the meantime, give him one of my cards,” she jostled free a business card between the sharp points of her nails, “and this pamphlet.” She shimmied away a loose-leaf double-sided page with a graphic of a man holding his head in his hands and a text based scrawled font reading _you are not alone_.

 

“The pamphlet has the national suicide prevention lifeline in it as well as some text-based services across the nation and a list of local resources.”

 

Ms. Pirelli’s face went flush at the mention of the word suicide.

 

“You don’t think it’s that serious, do you?” she asked tentatively.

 

“All suicidal ideations are serious. They just vary in severity. Some can be acute, others chronic. The warning signs are there though, most often. Has he spoken to you, his parents or others of where his thoughts are?” Mrs. Greene schooled the English teacher, hoping that she would remember some of the trainings that had covered the basics of what teenage students (and also children) could face in terms of stigma and mental health conditions.

 

“N-no,” Ms. Pirelli stammered with tears in her eyes. “He doesn’t talk as much these days, his participation scores have been steadily declining. I thought--”

 

Mrs. Greene interjected right away, “What you thought then doesn’t matter now. We just need to get him the extra support he needs. Maybe nothing will come of it or maybe it’ll mean the world. Let his mother know where you’re coming from and offer solutions. Whatever he is struggling with will come to a close in due time. Provide him with hope that it gets better because it does and the help that’s available to him if he should ever require it.” Mrs. Greene stared at Ms. Pirelli with an intensity she didn’t often carry in her tenth year of the job.

 

“W-we think he’s lost some weight, too,” she whispered again.

 

Mrs. Greene’s lips downturned naturally.

 

“All the more reason to get him to proper resources,” Mrs. Greene advised, silently judging a checklist in her mind, not that she would ever dare to armchair diagnose to her colleagues…or anyone.

 

Instinctively, she plucked out another pink hall pass and handed it to Ms. Pirelli before she realized what she was doing. She laughed like a baby for a split second before readjusting her facial features into a stoic expression.

 

“Call soon,” she advised before Ms. Pirelli had left the room. “Time is of the essence.” She nodded knowingly then licked her fingers as she took out another sticky note and waited for the next pupil to walk in.

 

This was going to be a long day for her, indeed.

 

* * *

 

It was a quarter past noon when Ms. Pirelli’s shaking hand clamped around her black telephone as she dialed in the Odinson’s phone number.

 

The shrill ring lasted for one, two, three chimes before a gruff male voice appeared on the other end.

 

“Hello?” Mr. Odinson barked with regret for having answered the phone thinking full well that it was yet another scam ringing up his house.

 

“Mr. Odinson?” Ms. Pirelli’s voice questioned in a noticeable quiver; male figures always intimidated her, even when she was young.

 

“Who’s this?” Odin remarked hoarsely, eyeing his gold and brown watch with a wary eye.

 

“It’s Ms. Pirelli from the high school. I’m calling in regards to Loki.” She said in a hastening rush, hoping that with more speed in her voice the less ferocity would arise from the gentleman on the other line. “We’ve noticed a remarkable shift in his schoolwork as of this year. He’s not been turning in assignments, asking for shifted deadlines, missing classes, being tardy and the like. We’re concerned for him and we’re hoping you can keep a more watchful eye on him at home.”

 

Odin bristled in offense.

 

“I take care of my boys just fine,” he growled, then admonished. “I will take your concerns into consideration. I hadn’t known he was getting so behind in his schooling. I will talk with him later about it. Is that all?”

 

“We were hoping that maybe Frigga could speak with him? They seem to have a closer connection than your relationship with him.” Ms. Pirelli groaned internally at her less than enthused remark back to the man.

 

Odin narrowed his eyes, shaking his head in disgust at her remark. “Our relationship is just fine, Ms….?”

 

“Ms. Pirelli.” She immediately supplied.

 

Odin laughed mirthlessly. “Right, Ms. Pirelli. I’ve been a father for longer than you’ve been a teacher. I know my children well, and don’t need someone of your caliber weighing in on decisions I make for my family.”

 

Ms. Pirelli began to protest but Odin nearly shouted at her:

 

“I can take care of it, thank you.”

 

And he clicked the phone off with no further remarks.

 

Ms. Pirelli sighed with a trembling breath, adrenaline pumping through her system as if she had just been in a high speed car chase.

 

“That could have gone better,” she mumbled to herself, slightly distraught. Her eyes glanced over at the pamphlets she had received from Mrs. Greene earlier that morning. She slid them towards the inner corner of her desk, wondering how that conversation would go with Loki after class as she was planning and what horrors might await him back at home. If his issue was involved with his living situation, she feared she’d just made it thrice as worse.

* * *

 

 _Mother will be leaving for her next trip in an hour_ , Thor had scrawled across a loose leaf slice of paper that he had the gall to borrow from Loki’s otherwise empty notebook (it was the principle of the matter that grated his nerves the most).

 

 _And?_ Loki wrote back, feeling distressed, ill, irritable and mildly hungry. At least, that’s what he thought his body was trying to convey to him. It all got so confusing as of late. He’d started to get used to depriving himself of nutrients that he hardly got the bodily sensation of hunger anymore.

 

 _Remember? That’s why father was home today,_ Thor wrote next.

 

 _As if I give a shit,_ Loki replied, tossing the note at his brother in the row in front of him. Loki had started to sit into the third or fourth rows of his classes when his grades had begun to slip. He felt it was easier to pay less attention in these rows than in the front and he could get away with resting his head on his oversized sweatshirts and falling asleep on his desk.

 

Thor read his brother’s response and swiveled a concerned look back at him.

 

This was strange for Loki, but Loki had been acting stranger and stranger these days.

 

 _Are you okay?_ Thor began to write but then he scribbled it out. If something was wrong with his little brother, he’d tell him…right? Doubt clung to Thor’s worried expulsion of a breath.

 

Before either of them knew it, the bell rang and Thor was shoving the lonely note back into his pockets and scrambling to get his assignments and notebooks back into his backpack. He slowed himself down to a crawl when he waited by the door for his brother to unveil himself from his desk when he saw Ms. Pirelli approach Loki.

 

Ms. Pirelli lowered herself to one knee and whispered something so softly to Loki that Thor couldn’t have made it out even if he wanted to (which he did, by the way).

 

Loki’s face, thinner than usual--was he always this thin? Thor wondered to himself--fell in a mixture of shame and terror.

 

The younger sibling pocketed two loose leaf pages and stormed out of the room in a disheveled, hasty manner.

 

Thor easily caught his younger sibling by the bicep and he was instantly overcome with worry when he felt more cloth from his brother’s sweatshirt than his actual flesh and blood.

 

“Brother, are you all right?” Thor asked but Loki spun away from him with more energy than what appeared to be going through his system.

 

“Leave me the fuck alone!” Loki nearly screamed, eyes welling up with tears as he skittered down the hallway as fast as his thin feet would carry him.

 

Thor stared at his retreating form in utter bewilderment before registering that there was another culprit in the room who could give him answers. Thor’s head shot over to Ms. Pirelli so fast he felt nauseous.

 

“What did you do?” Thor asked lowly and accusatory. Nobody messed with Loki but him, he determined then.

 

Ms. Pirelli looked guilty, eyes meeting Thor’s in fear.

 

“Be there for him.” She hushed. “Just be there for him.”

 

Thor’s head tilted imperceptibly as the gears in his head spun out of control. He retreated backwards with awe and such an intensity of concern that he didn’t even register passing by his sibling, who was crying, at the edge of the school grounds. He just hurried along trying to get home, trying to make sense of things, and failing to ever do so. He felt on his toes and he felt incredibly alone all of a sudden.

 

What was happening to his brother? And was there anything Thor could do to stop it?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: 
> 
> Well, hello there! This chapter came up pretty quickly, I have to say. Maybe it’s because the Muse was kind to me and because it had been so long since my last update, but now there’s a few updates in just a few days’ time!
> 
> An excellent and on point reader had questioned why Loki’s family and teachers hadn’t been noticing his downward progression so I finally got to answer some of that in this chapter! I think I have a clear direction to go from here so hop on aboard and stick around for the ride! It’s going to get a little bumpier before it gets better, and it will get better!! Also, I’m about a chapter ahead for the first time ever so I’m really excited for what’s to come soon! :D 
> 
> I have a training happening all weekend so it may be a little while before the next update but I’m really waist deep into this story again and I am grateful for the response it is receiving across websites, so thank you so much for sharing your thoughts and ideas with me!!! 
> 
> Here’s hoping for a soon to come update! :] 
> 
> Stay safe!! 
> 
> Written: 4/4/2019  
> Edited: 4/5; 4/6/19
> 
> Songs listened to in the making of this chapter: “Nobody can save me” by Linkin Park and “Attention” by Charlie Puth. 
> 
> PS You can check my Twitter if you'd like to see where I got some of the research/information of what school counselor's are and what they can offer and such. :]


	17. Chapter 17

****Trigger Warning**: Suicidality, suicide notes and feels**

 

He hadn’t meant to show such emotion. He hadn’t meant for the rage to come sauntering out of him at his elder sibling, at the world around him. It felt like everything was just falling apart as soon as he touched it. He didn’t expect for the tears to start flinging free from his green eyes as soon as he reached the farthest fence by the edge of the football field. He felt more than realized the gawking stares from the practicing football team as they looked upon him weeping with both suspicion and disdain.

 

He hadn’t meant to be crying. He knew it was weak of him to show so much emotion, but it all just flung out of him of its own accord.

 

What was he going to do?

 

There was no place he could hide. There was no place where he belonged. There was no place to turn to now.

 

Mother was gone, Thor didn’t care and Odin…his wrath would be scorching through Loki’s soul soon.

 

He knew he couldn’t not go home, he had to, and he had to face his father’s discipline. But it didn’t mean he liked it any more. Ms. Pirelli, of all the teachers with her big brown doe eyes and worried tone had mentioned that she had called home and spoken to father. About him, about Loki.

 

She said the other teachers had been worried about him, that his grades were slipping and his mask was being unveiled and it made him feel so completely and utterly terrified.

 

It was as if all his secrets had been unleashed. The notion was entirely disconcerting--if he didn’t matter at all to anyone, why were they making such a fuss over him? If he wasn’t more than a scrap of dog shit on a shoe, why would they be trying to find him help?

 

Did he want help? Like, truly and completely?

 

He just knew he couldn’t keep up this charade anymore. He couldn’t keep up the lies and the displays that things were okay because they weren’t. They were not okay--he, by extension, was **not** okay.

 

He didn’t have the energy in him to lie any longer. And it scared him where that would lead him. Would he be sent away? What would he tell them? What would he say to get the questioning lines of vision away from him and his Ananias? Is there anything he could even realistically say, let alone convince others, that he was okay? Because it felt like he wasn’t okay, it felt like everything was crashing down around him like balls of hail had erupted out from the putrid gray clouds and was swallowing him whole.

 

Tears came and came from his eyes, his world blurring around him because he had been caught: he had been found out; he had had his mask pulled away. The numbers and the lies and the truths mixed together in a swirling mass that he was very uncomfortable with.

 

If he thought he knew pain before, he was sorely mistaken.

 

He hiccupped and spread his snot over his sleeves as he dabbed at his eyes and tried his best to pull himself together.

 

The pounding headache behind his eyes and forehead didn’t help matters but he couldn’t recall if that was already present before he started crying or was just made worse after having shed his tears.

 

He sighed, sniffling and coughing and pulled up his backpack from the soggy ground and started for the journey home.

 

Whether he was ready or not, he felt his coin flipping moment was coming up potentially a few days sooner than he had been planning.

 

Dire situations called for dire circumstances.

 

* * *

 

Thor licked his lips for the third time that afternoon. He was biting his bottom lip, picking at it from between his index finger and thumb, pulling away at the skin and otherwise fidgeting with his too long of limbs and anxious, sporadic thoughts.

 

“Where is your brother?” Odin spat angrily, turning towards Thor with hell bent rage in his eye.

 

“Father, I--” Thor protested but his father just spun on his heel again as he angrily swept back and forth on the carpet, as though he were really the vacuum cleaner instead.

 

“I ask few things of you two boys! Getting home on time is one of them.” Odin glared out at Thor before he turned on his heel again, walking back up the room.

 

“Father, I really think--” Thor tried again, but Odin continued on as if he hadn’t even heard him.

 

“Your mother has just left this house and you and Loki start this mess mere hours later? Do you realize how much worry she’s going to be in now because Loki has been doing poorly in school? Do neither of you think clearly? Do neither of you stop to think how you may be affecting this family?” Odin groaned, hands sliding down his aged face. Before he could continue on his rant, or for Thor to try and juxtapose another thought, the front door opened slowly.

 

“Loki!” Odin shouted across the house and Loki, who was quietly stepping into the house, cringed immediately.

 

“Yes, father?” Loki spoke lowly, wishing more than anything to turn from the house and run into traffic.

 

“Get in here, now!” Odin replied, fingers curling up into fists.

 

Loki stepped into the living room like a snail crawls along gravel.

 

“Your teacher called the house,” Odin mutely transitioned. “Do you have any idea as to why?”

 

Loki wasn’t sure if he was more anxious when Odin spoke quietly versus when he spoke very loudly.

 

“Grades.” Loki supplied, easily.

 

“You know you’re supposed to be the one to set an example for your brother. What is the town going to think when their straight A student comes home with F’s instead?” Odin scowled in disgust, pity appearing in his eye as he shook his head. “You are a disgrace to this family!”

 

“Father, please,” Thor expressed with concern, blue eyes flicking back and forth between his father and his brother.

 

“Thor, be silent! Know your place.” Odin repeated, eyeing the elder sibling for just a split second. “What are you going to do next? Get a job at McDonald’s?” He scorned, tone rough.

 

“No,” was the hushed, barely even stated reply.

 

“I should have known with you that this would happen one day. You feel inferior to your brother because he truly is better than you. Thor can juggle wrestling, football, schooling and a girlfriend, and what can you accomplish with nearly none of that? He may not be perfect but at least he’s not you. You have brought such stress onto this family and with your mother gone…” He trailed off, shaking his head again. “She would be able to deal with you better than I. Go to your room, you are grounded for the weekend until Monday. You can take your meals up in your bedroom. I want to hear nothing but pencil scratching paper this weekend. You have direly disappointed me, Loki. Try harder to be better, next time.” Odin sighed like a deflated balloon and Thor’s eyes had turned back to Loki, whereas Loki was too busy staring at the floor in a locked gaze.

 

He shifted to the left before climbing the stairs and heading to his room where he closed his door with a loud bang.

 

“You really should be nicer to Loki, father.” Thor stated clearly, his own head shaking as he mulled over his father’s words. “Loki is struggling and he could use your love right now, not your tough love.”

 

“Love is blind. Tough love makes for stronger men.”

 

“But he is not yet a man, rather a young boy.” Thor replied, eyes watering slightly. “You’ve always wanted the best for me, why is this any different than for Loki?”

 

“You are not your brother,” Odin responded right away. He looked over at his elder son, pausing for a moment. “Loki is…”

 

“Worthy,” Thor supplied right away. “He is worthy of your love and worthy of your compassion. You should treat us no differently, father. Mother would want the best for both of us, not just one.”

 

Odin’s brows shifted together.

 

“Another word from you and you’ll face the same punishment.” He warned darkly.

 

“There are some things worth getting punished for. This is one of those things.” Thor trudged up the stairs thereafter, still limping slightly from his ankle. He made a beeline to Loki’s closed bedroom door, and was about to knock when he thought better of it.

 

It could wait until tomorrow, couldn’t it?

 

If only Thor had known: that sometimes, some things can’t.

 

* * *

 

**Try harder to be better next time.**

**Try harder to be better next time.**

**Try harder to be better next time.**

**Try harder to be better next time.**

**Try harder to be better next time.**

 

_Dear Odin,_

_I took your advice to try harder to be better. I’d say it didn’t work out so well for me. Don’t you think? I’m sure you won’t cry at my funeral--did you even at my birth? I hope having one son who lives a long and happy life is enough for you. Because clearly I never was._

_Look on the bright side: at least you don’t have to pretend like you cared about me when mother or Thor is around._

_You should rejoice in my death, even._

_It’s what you always wanted._

_That’s the only logical conclusion that I can come to at least._

_So one last thing before I leave this Earth:_

_Go fuck yourself._

_From the son who only ever wanted your approval,_

_\-- Loki._

 

Loki set aside the black pen, hand trembling as the tears shed free from his green eyes. Odin’s words hadn’t left his side since thirteen hours ago when they came flinging from his father’s mouth. And while it was an achievement that he had finally gotten the strength to write his suicide letter, its impact was something he hated himself for feeling and the daunting coin flip was making his insides turn painfully.

 

Did he really want to go?

 

Is this how he was meant to die?

 

Was this how his one life was meant to be spent? Suffering and in pain for the majority of it? Never living to see his twenties, have a family, have a romantic relationship, have friends who wanted to be around him? People who would actually even dare to **choose** to be around him?

 

Was this it?

 

How it all unfolded?

 

Because that really, really sucked.

 

It was shit.

 

Loki hated it.

 

He hated life, he hated Odin, he hated how he pined after his father figure like a child, wishing beyond wishing that his father would love him, deem him worthy, deem him with his approval. He hated himself for wishing that, for returning to the fountain time and time again even though every time he came by he always left without his bucket being filled. He hated his body for how disgusting it was. He hated his mind for Ananias to even exist within it and for the depressive thoughts that wouldn’t go away about how much he should die and how worthless he was. But most of all, Loki just hated himself.

 

He had no reason to believe that things would get better because they never had before. He had no reason to believe anything other than what was being spoon fed to him by his own mind.

 

He just didn’t matter…enough. He didn’t come close to mattering enough. He certainly wasn’t thin enough.

 

And if he wasn’t thin enough, did he really have a problem to begin with? If he wasn’t depressed enough, did he really even have a mood disorder? If he wasn’t dead by now, was he genuinely ever suicidal?

 

These questions hurt his soul, tearing it apart from the inside out.

 

He didn’t know.

 

He just didn’t know.

 

But he hoped that with his soon to come freedom that he’d have an answer to these questions. Or he’d be so consumed by what lay ahead of him in Valhalla that the answers wouldn’t even matter to him anymore.

 

That’s what he wished for that evening: peace.

 

* * *

 

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Munching on the inside of his cheek, he picked up the pen again for the final letter. He had saved the hardest one for last.

 

_Dear Mother,_

_I am severely going to miss you._

_It pains me so that my dying fell upon a day where you were not here. I know killing myself at home wasn’t the greatest of options--but I didn’t want to be uncovered at school--and you weren’t home anyways so you wouldn’t have had to find me._

_Please don’t come after me. Please don’t blame yourself. Please learn to let go of me--that’s all I wanted, was to be let go of._

_I will miss your hugs--the tight embraces across my shoulders, the way your hair sparkled in the morning sun, the kindness and compassion and utmost love you always provided to me._

_Please make something more out of Soul Search. It is a noble cause. Maybe if things had been different, I would have called. But just know that you did everything you could. It’s just that sometimes part of the journey is the end._

_I know how hard it is to take a look at what signs we missed in those we love--it’s the tragic nature of suicide because it always seems like you could have done so much._

_But sometimes, you couldn’t have. Sometimes it wouldn’t have changed a thing. So please, don’t stay up at night looking for clues that were just never there._

_I am so, so sorry, mother. I didn’t want this to happen to you._

_Someone is coming--_

_I love you,_

_\-- Loki_

 

The younger adolescent had about twenty seconds to toss his disheveled pillow over the collection of suicide notes he had upon his bed before Thor came bursting through the door.

 

“Brother!” he loudly exclaimed in delight. “You’re up!”

 

“Of course I am, Thor, it’s three in the afternoon,” Loki mused, sniffling as quietly as he could to not attract attention to the face that his eyes were red rimmed and he’d been crying for the last several hours. “What’s up?” he asked in a weak voice, trying for just a little while longer to keep up the charade.

 

“I was hoping we could go over some math homework,” Thor answered, seemingly not noticing Loki’s wrecked emotions.

 

“Maybe later,” Loki deflected, not feeling up to doing any schoolwork. Because what did it matter anyway? It was a pile of papers and he was planning on killing himself tomorrow so, even in Valhalla homework would be irrelevant.

 

Thor sighed, lumbering into the rest of Loki’s messy room and parking himself onto a pillow beside his younger sibling.

 

Thor didn’t know it--how could he?--that he had just parked his bottom cheeks onto the very same pillow that was hiding Loki’s suicide notes.

 

He thought the look of alarm and unease in his brother’s face was because he was encroaching in his personal space. He never would have guessed that behind those green eyes lay something far more sinister.

 

“Loki,” Thor breathed, as though this were the last time he would ever say his brother’s name, and for all intents and purposes, it might be. “I’m going to a party Fandral is hosting tomorrow evening. Jane,” Thor recognized the confusion on Loki’s face and uttered, “My girlfriend is going to be there and I really want you to come to meet her.” His expression turned to one of sorrow for a moment. “I think getting out of the house could be really good for you. Get you to think about something else for a while, a change of scenery, even. What do you think?”

 

 _I’d really like to kill myself tomorrow,_ Loki immediately thought, but he didn’t say anything. And he didn’t realize it but by not saying anything, by not sharing his feelings and his thoughts and his worries, that other people couldn’t mind read what he was feeling and thinking and doing. Only Loki knew for himself what his life experiences had taught him. Only Loki could ask for help, could reach out for it, because there were hands reaching back out to him, even if he couldn’t see them, even if he didn’t believe they were even there.

 

But Loki didn’t know any of this yet. And it was tragic. And it was painful. So he kept his mind busy with everything he wanted to say and maybe in some alternate universe what he thought was actually said aloud but for this one, he sighed and instead let these words fly free from his mouth:

 

“I’m going to be having a change of scenery anyways. So I don’t think I can make it tomorrow, but, next time?” Loki looked up at Thor and he felt so broken and fake and uncomfortable but Thor, he felt, didn’t notice the gravity of what was occurring.

 

He frowned sadly, but then said, “Okay, if you’re sure, Loki.” He gazed at his sibling for a second or two longer and it took everything in Loki to not turn away in shame. “Next time, for sure.” Thor repeated to himself, and Loki’s heart broke that there would never be a next time, so with tears in his eyes again he nodded.

 

“Next time.”

 

And he offered Thor a weak smile and when Thor left his room soon after, he placed the letters under his pillow because he knew with them there that he wouldn’t sleep through the night, wondering what he was doing and if it would work and whether he should even go at all. Because he knew with exhaustion, with exhaustion he could do it. He could end it all.

 

But when his eyes finally closed, he didn’t know if that’s what he truly wanted anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Heyyyy!! So you guys are probably seeing this a few days after my last chapter update. In fact, it’s a little longer now than I intended because I had a tough Monday and took a few days off from this fic (I’m safe, hooray!) I’m so excited for where this fic is going and am already looking forward to the sequel that will come out of this fic (yes, there will be a sequel! Yay!) and I’m really looking forward to writing this story and sharing it with you guys as one of the major scenes I’ll be introducing soon has been such a BIG scene I’ve been leading up to every chapter since (I’m still working out the kinks to it) and it’s going to be nice to finally have it out there and then introduce the other Avengers into this story. :] 
> 
> So, if you can, leave me a review! I’d love to hear from you and who knows, you may even inspire me to write different scenes in that I hadn’t thought of on my own. :] 
> 
> Also, I do want to point out two things:
> 
> 1\. Loki likely perceives some of what Odin says to fit within his own narrative, which I tried to highlight in the conversation between him and Ms. Pirelli last chapter. But even if Odin is a dick, that’s going to be a very interesting relationship to have to come to terms with in some respects as in the recovery process, not all of our loved ones are encouraging and validating and how we navigate that truth is so, so, soooo important. So there’s some potential future conflict within that and also I have about 3 ideas as to where that can go too. 
> 
> 2\. No offense to people who work at McDonald’s! We gotta earn ourselves money somehow, so don’t let Odin’s invalidation deter you in any way!
> 
> Also, there’s totes a reference to one of the trailers for Endgame too, if you squint hard enough! ;] 
> 
> And above all, thank you so much for reading and reviewing and following and the like. 
> 
> Stay safe, my friends and take care of yourselves. I look forward to where we go from here. *hugs* 
> 
> Background songs: “Sober” by Demi Lovato & “Praying” by Kesha. 
> 
> Written: 4/4, 4/6/2019  
> Edited: 4/6, 4/10/19
> 
> PS I can't decide if I want to upload the 18th chapter today too or not. What do you guys think?


	18. Chapter 18

****Trigger Warning**: Suicide attempt and feels**

 

He had awoken that morning with a surge of energy, a tranquil expression and a calmness that encircled his scrawny shoulders.

 

Today was the day!

 

He felt excited, his numbness having faded into the background like sets of origami swans littering a mantelpiece for several years. He saw the world with color, the sun glittering along the dew on the grass, every blade standing out to him in wonder.

 

He found himself spinning from his room and folding himself up onto Thor’s bed where the older adolescent was still fast asleep.

 

“Thor!” Loki sang, rolling over onto his brother’s body as if it were nothing more than a blanket.

 

Thor groaned and grumbled but didn’t quite awaken.

 

In this lapse of a moment Loki considered this as his final encounters with his brother for the rest of their lives. So, naturally, he did something then that Thor could remember him by--something he hadn’t done in a decade.

 

“THOR!” He shouted into the nearest, fatefully exposed ear canal of his older sibling.

 

Quickly jumping into action, Thor made out a whimpered, “Bleghwa!” and fell to his bedroom floor in a tangle of limbs and constricting blankets.

 

Bug eyed, Thor looked around in alarm for the source of the loud commotion, ocean eyes landing soon on his younger friend.

 

“Loki!” Thor admonished, shaking his head in confusion. “The last time I told you not to do that was a year ago.” He made an angry expression but they both knew he didn’t mean it.

 

“More like ten years ago,” Loki corrected, bringing the rest of the comforter and blankets around himself in a comforting pile.

 

“Has it been that long?” Thor quipped easily.

 

He hadn’t realized it but he had come to miss their boyish banter.

 

“Only a smidge,” Loki replied, gesturing to a small amount.

 

“My god.” Thor responded before a look of open honesty came upon his features. “How much you have grown brother,” then, more softly spoken, “I cannot wait to grow old with you.”

 

He didn’t mean for it to happen but tears began to streak down his cheeks at Thor’s admission.

 

It was difficult, maybe the hardest thing he had to do, but he forced his mouth open and garbled out, “And I with you.”

 

It was an absolute lie. He knew what he was planning to do to himself that day. He knew the guilt that would arise in his brother in the days to come. He realized then everything he was about to lose.

 

And he said it anyway.

 

Because he was in too deep.

 

He’d spent so many hours planning and re-planning this.

 

He couldn’t--wouldn’t--give that all up now.

 

But he was going to lose a lot.

 

And he could have made a different choice.

 

If there was any time to make a different choice, it was then.

 

He also didn’t realize then how much those around him were going to lose, too.

 

It was all too much; too much thinking and feeling and second guessing. It was easier to stick with the plan, easier to choose to die.

 

And if Thor was bothered by his open weeping, if Loki had been clear-headed to hear his older sibling ask him what was wrong, if things could have been different…maybe then Loki would have realized how much he was going to regret this choice. Maybe he would have realized then, in this moment, that life didn’t have to always hurt, that hope exists and recovery is possible.

 

Maybe…maybe.

 

* * *

 

By noon, Loki had made it a few clear hours without crying.

 

He had given away his art supplies to Andy, the boy who he’d rarely study with for large exams. He had cleared out his locker from the old food that was in there, uneaten and untouched. He even threw away his bad grades to lessen the backlash that might come from his intentional death.

 

By lunch, Loki had sat back in the front rows of his classes, made jokes, laughed and smiled more than he had all year.

 

Every puzzle piece was fitting into each other nicely.

 

He even made it to the end of the day before seeing Thor again. He steered his emotions to calmer waters as he cautiously approached his sibling.

 

Thor turned away from his friends and smiled so happily at Loki.

 

It made Loki’s heart break more than he thought it would.

 

Before Thor could say anything to make Loki whimper and sob, he asked, “So, what time is your party at?”

 

Thor bristled a little, unsure as to why his brother had skipped their pleasantries then reminding himself that that had been happening a lot lately.

 

“Three!” Thor said excitedly. “Have you changed--?”

 

“No,” Loki stated then added, “brother.” He shifted on his feet in a representation of his own anxieties about the party and what he was about to ask next. “What time will you be home by?” He felt like mother so much that he smiled.

 

Thor must have thought much the same. His smile broadened and he chuckled.

 

“Probably by seven, school night and all.”

 

“Good, I’ll see you then and father won’t get nearly as mad at that compromise.” Loki smiled faintly, turning to go before pausing.

 

Without another thought he turned back to Thor and brought him into a hug. With one thin hand cradling his brother’s neck, he whispered only to Thor, “I love you, Thor. Never forget that.”

 

In the moment that he held Thor close for a minute too long he heard Thor’s reply in his ear: “I love you, too, brother.”

 

And when he cried to himself on the walk home, this time he didn’t even feel bad about it at all.

 

* * *

 

He was still crying when he unlocked the front door of his family’s home.

 

Odin wouldn’t be home until after seven from work.

 

Thor wouldn’t be home from about the same time.

 

And mother wouldn’t be home at all.

 

He was alone.

 

Completely and utterly alone--making him cry harder; there was no one there to relate to his pain, no one there to hold his hand, no one there to talk him out of it. He was by himself. Alone.

 

The house was empty and silent--so after he collected the tall glass of water, the suicide letters he had kept under his pillow from the night before and his clock radio to keep him company, he wormed his way to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with an audible click.

 

He set down his cell phone on the counter, next placing the glass beside it and the radio to the right. He rifled through his sweatshirt pockets, dumping out the contents to the floor and purposefully setting the suicide letters onto the tile too, closer to the gap between the door.

 

Next, he opened the medicine cabinet, finding Grandpa Henry’s old medication.

 

He took the orange bottle in his trembling hand before he could think better of it. When he dumped out the pills, he clasped his hands around the cool granite.

 

He took a stuttering breath, then two, then five. He slipped his suicide notes under the door so that they were now in the hallway. He turned the radio to his favorite station and took one pill into his hand.

 

When he saw himself pale and thin in the mirror he felt disgusted. He used this self-loathing to place the lone pill in his mouth. He took a swig of water but his throat felt closed up and wouldn’t down the foreign item, as if his body were rebelling against the death sentence his brain had thought up.

 

Soon, the medicine began to dissolve in his mouth, leaving an unpleasant and bitter aftertaste.

 

On the fifth swallow, it finally went down.

 

Mechanically, with bursts of anxiety exploding in his vision, he repeated the process over and over, one pill at a time.

 

When he was certain he’d taken enough, he slid to the back wall until he felt the cool tile on the fabric of his pants.

 

He waited five minutes, then ten. By fifteen minutes, he heard a different song come on the radio. He felt his thoughts slow down, the giddiness set in as he laughed about nothing at all and everything all at once. Suddenly everything was hilarious and unbeknownst to him his pupils were constricting into tiny dots and his sense of self was wavering at best.

 

_I don’t wanna be alive. I just want to die today. I just want to die. I don’t want to be alive…. I’ve been praying for somebody to save me, no one’s heroic. And my life don’t even matter, I know it, I know it. I know I’m hurting deep down but can’t show it. I never had a place to call my own, I never had a home. Ain’t nobody calling my phone, where you been? Where you at? What’s on your mind? They say every life’s precious but nobody care about mine._

Loki found himself bobbing along to the music, relating to each lyric line after line, his world shifting around him uncontrollably as he felt his mind detach from his body. It was like this was all happening to someone else other than himself, as though he was unable to control his body from processing the drugs in the way that it was. He felt free floating. He felt…scared.

 

_I want you to be alive. I want you to be alive. You don’t gotta die today. You don’t gotta die. I want you to be alive. I want you to be alive. You don’t gotta die, and let me tell you why._

 

It was like Thor had appeared just before him, like Thor was the one speaking directly to him. He was telling him to stop, telling him that they could get through this together. Thor was telling him how much Loki mattered. Thor was telling him how much he loved Loki. Thor was there, smiling and grinning down upon him. Thor was there. He was no longer alone.

 

 **What are you doing, Loki?** Thor asked, then he shifted, turning black and cloudy as a foggy light overcame his silhouette and a brighter replacing light shined from his center expanding outwards. He was luminescent, hard to look at; he spoke to him, his voice low. **Loki?**

 

“Who is this?” Loki found himself questioning.

 

 **Your will to live,** came the response. **I am your unmasked potential.**

_It’s the very first breath when your head’s been drowning underwater. And it’s the lightness in the air when you’re there chest to chest with the lover. It’s holding on though the road’s long, and seeing light in the darkest things. And when you stare at your reflection, finally knowing who it is, I know that you’ll thank god you did._

 

“What are you doing here?” Loki asked, fearfully.

 

**I’m saving you.**

 

“Why? Why do you care?” Loki didn’t know whether to laugh or cry so he did both.

 

**Because you deserve to live.**

 

“No, I don’t. I’m doing everyone a favor.” Loki said with his voice wavering as doubts filled his vision.

 

**Thor loves you. Frigga loves you. Odin cares about you. They all want the best for you and death will not result in your freedom, but wrought more pain over a tragic loss to a great, budding kid. Life isn’t just the bad, it’s all the good in the world, too.**

**If you die today, you’ll never get to reread the Harry Potter books you enjoy so much or watch another sunset and the colors stream across the sky. If you die today you won’t get to hear another Panic! At the Disco song, new musicians, new artists. If you die today, you won’t get to experience friendship, chocolate chip cookies on a warm day, mother’s hugs, and Thor’s eternal optimism. You won’t feel the rain on your skin again. You won’t get to pet cute kittens. You won’t get to simply breathe again--truly and beautifully.**

**If you die today it ends all the pain and life isn’t just pain. It’s hope in the darkness, light in the sky, meaning in your veins and worth in every crevice of you.**

_I know where you been, where you are, where you’re going. I know you’re the reason I believe in life, what’s the day without a little night? I’m just trying to shed a little light. It can be hard, it can be sooo hard. But you gotta live right now. You got everything to give right now._

 

“But…I’m hurting.” Loki whimpered, reminding himself of how alone he was in this cold, cold room.

 

**Your hurt won’t last forever. There is hope. There is help. You can be okay again. Your worth is not determined by your weight on a scale or the amount of calories you ingest.**

**What if tomorrow you feel differently?**

**What if you felt better in two months, two years?**

**What if there could have been more in store for you?**

**What if you could be the change in someone else’s world?**

_I finally want to be alive. I finally want to be alive. I don’t want die today, I don’t want to die. I just wanna live. I just wanna live._

**Suicide is a permanent action to a temporary crisis. A crisis is time sensitive. That means it will pass.**

**So call for help, please.**

**Because I want you to live. Thor needs you. Mother needs you, and although he doesn’t know it yet, father wants you too.**

**There’s nothing in this world that can bring you back when you’re gone, Loki.**

**You deserve freedom but death is not freedom.**

**When you live you can feel. When you’re dead, you cannot. That’s it. Game over. You are given all but one life to live and that is all. What you choose to do with it is up to each one of us. You can choose to live or you can choose to die, but you cannot choose both.**

**You have so much left to live. Don’t take that away from yourself.**

**You are worthy.**

**You are loved.**

**You are needed.**

**You are not alone.**

**Some day you will feel true happiness again. It won’t erase the pain but make life tolerable. From there you will grow and change in strength. It’s okay to ask for help.**

**Vulnerability is a strength.**

**So, please live. Loki, please live.**

**Because tomorrow could make all the difference.**

_Pain don’t hurt the same I know, the lane I travel feels alone. But I’m moving til my legs give out, and I see my tears melt in the snow. But I don’t wanna cry anymore, I don’t wanna cry. I wanna feel alive; I don’t even wanna die anymore._

 

“Who are you?” Loki asked again, his hand already hovering over his cell phone before he could realize it.

 

Maybe there was still time to undo this. Maybe he was worth something after all.

 

**I am you. I am the you inside who wants to live. We all have it. Suicide’s greatest lie is convincing us that we want something else, but when we’re faced with death, we realize how much we had yet to live. We realize before death, or perceived death, that we wanted to live, and the regret we feel is immeasurable. We regret the choice we took to land us there. And some make it through their ideation, and some don’t.**

**I am your voice of recovery. I will be here when you wake up and I will be here when you realize how grateful you are to live another day. Because pain isn’t forever.**

 

“Don’t leave me,” Loki pleaded.

 

**Never, Loki. I am always here for you.**

 

“I’ll--I’ll text Thor.”

 

Loki realized then how shaky his voice reverberated in his throat and how slow his breaths were coming.

 

“I--I need help,” Loki mumbled as though the words were foreign to him.

 

**Yes, Loki. You need help. And that’s okay.**

 

Loki’s vision blurred again from all his tears, he hadn’t realized he could cry this much, when he placed his phone back down and his text had sent to Thor.

 

“I told him I wasn’t feeling well,” Loki explained to himself, to his inner experience.

 

 **Maybe something more urgent would help**.

 

Loki smiled reluctantly.

 

“Who should we try next?” Loki asked, unsure about how this was already playing out. Did this make him weak? Did this mean he lacked conviction? What would people say about him?

 

**Call Odin.**

 

“I’d rather be dead,” Loki easily replied.

 

**If you don’t, you will be.**

 

Loki blinked, slowly.

 

“Maybe this is a bad idea.”

 

Maybe he was not worth enough.

 

“I-I can’t think.”

 

**It’s the drugs taking effect on you. You need to tell someone. You need to say it.**

 

“Say what?”

 

**That you tried to kill yourself. Loki, someone needs to know. This is an emergency. What would you tell someone who is having a heart attack? Would you sit them down and tell them how it’s all in their head and that there’s eternal damnation waiting for them in the afterlife? Or would you take them to get help? This is no different to that. You need help, now.**

**Open the phone and call Odin. What do you have to lose?**

 

He opened his father’s contact information and waited for the rings to subside, nodding off here and there, was he just calling a minute ago or was that a lie too? Was this the best decision in the long run? But he still couldn’t think clearly, he just had to listen to the voice inside his gut and although it was twisted up in knots and he felt like he had people running around the office in his skull freaking the fuck out, he thought this was, maybe, the right thing to do.

 

“Hello?” Odin answered on the fourth ring.

 

“Dad?” Loki felt sleepier than ever at that moment, cradling the phone in his hand and looking for something he was afraid he’d never find. He couldn’t help but cozy up on the cold floor, lying his ear down on the white tile as the room swam around him.

 

“Loki? Why are you calling?” Odin asked, struck between frustrations and…was that concern? For Loki?

 

“Dad, I-I’m sorry. You don’t care but I….I need help.”

 

“Help with what? Loki, I’m busy at work, I’ll be home by--” Odin began but Loki interrupted.

 

“Seven, I know. I think I’ll be dead by then. I took some pills. Everything’s really fuzzy. I tried to kill myself. I’m sorry.”

 

I thought I could hold on for longer, Loki thought to himself. I thought things were better this way. I thought you wouldn’t care. I thought everything was going to be all right.

 

Loki thought all these thoughts but his mind wasn’t cooperating. He heard the faint outcry of his father on the phone, or maybe he hadn’t ever called at all. He just knew how sleepy he was. So, so sleepy.

 

The cool touch of the floor felt nice all of a sudden.

 

Maybe this was it.

 

Just coolness, just nothingness, just, just, just….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Why hello again! I’m not sure when exactly this gets uploaded, but it’s likely been a few days so, hi again. You know when you do that thing where you write something and re-read it so many times over that it just sounds like gibberish? Yeah, that’s me with this chapter. 
> 
> I find it fascinating that I don’t believe this chapter or story is triggering me when I thought that it might, and maybe it would have at any other point in time, but I thought it was only fair to write a lot when it comes to Loki’s inner self wondering the what if’s of his decision and whether he was doing the “right thing” as I wrote a lot for the attempt itself. I don’t know, just evening it out a smidge. The next chapter picks up right from here so that will be interesting to say the least!
> 
> I used Google to help me identify some of the symptoms of Loki’s OD while also using my small amount of experience from when I something similar four years ago. I drew on my own experiences with the bold text for Loki’s voice of recovery, as you may be able to tell. It wasn’t something (the bold text) in my original plan for this story and it’s potentially overwhelming and scattered but I wanted to throw everything possible out there and hope that something stuck with Loki and what he felt as he was going through this hard time. I hope that it sounds genuine, as that’s where I was coming from. Think of it as me inserting my recovery self into the story very boldly and deliberately. Maybe even saying what we were all thinking. xxx Additionally, because we’re not the same, Loki and I (in this story, although I suppose for most of my plots too), I know what I would do in the situation that’s different than what he would do. This story has evolved, like many others, in more ways than one and I hope that it’s still enjoyable and interesting for you all. 
> 
> Also, if you’d like I have an article I wrote in my uni’s newspaper featuring the 1800 song called: “Say the Word Suicide: Give it Time” if you’re curious and all. Did you like the username reference too? Hehehe. 
> 
> But yeah, I thought this would be more triggering than it is but I haven’t found that to be the case yet. It’s kinda like when I’m writing this story nothing else exists so the escapism is really, really nice. :] 
> 
> Any who, that’s all I shall say for now!   
> Looking forward to the complexities that will arise after this chapter!! 
> 
> Stay safe, peeps. xxxx
> 
> Written: 4.7 & 4.10.19  
> Edited: 4.10.2019; 4.11.19  
> Featured song (I don’t own the lyrics in Italics): “1800 273 8255” by Logic which is the suicide prevention lifeline for the USA and is the same number that was in that pamphlet that Mrs. Greene handed over (which we’ll see again later) ;] I should also note that I don’t believe Loki ingested all of the pills but that detail will be left ambiguous overall. 
> 
> Background songs to writing this chapter: “1800”; “You Say” by Lauren Daigle, “Hold On” by Chord Overstreet. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!!   
> Here’s a tissue and the hope for a brighter chapter ahead! *hugs* :]


	19. Chapter 19

****Trigger Warning**: Suicide attempt aftermath, suicide methods & feels**

 

 _Dad? Dad, I’m sorry. You don’t care but I need help._ The words floated through Odin’s skull as he grabbed his keys and bolted out the office doors of his workplace in a blurred flurry of movement.

 

_I took some pills. I tried to kill myself. I’m sorry._

 

He vaguely recalled his office co-workers calling out to him, something about how he couldn’t leave and how he’d left everything at his desk, out in the open, without a seeming care in the world.

 

His son needed him.

 

His son was hurting.

 

He couldn’t positively grapple with the weight that had been casted upon his shoulders.

 

He was the father here. It was his--always his--responsibility to provide for and care for his sons.

 

Oh, how he had failed Loki.

 

How he had failed Frigga and failed Thor.

 

He whimpered alone in his car as he drove fast through yellow lights and didn’t completely stop at red octagonal signs.

 

What had he done? How could he have failed so much as a father?

 

Was it not enough that he had failed Jimmie?

 

Was it not enough for him to have lost his own brother to suicide? A suicide so deeply painful that the family had pushed away the revelation at all costs? Pushed Jimmie away so far it was only but a dream that he had ever even existed to begin with?

 

To be a suicide survivor was unlike any pain and grief imaginable. It cut so deep into the soul that it left mere fragments behind.

 

How could he have been so blind?

 

How did he not see the signs?

 

They had to have been blaringly bright, just as Jimmie’s were.

 

You tell yourself after that no one could have known. But why couldn’t you have?

 

Why couldn’t part of the blame land on you?

 

Why was there never a true, definitive answer?

 

Something to say yes, this is why they died?

 

Why was it just a tangled web of uncertainties?

 

He wanted to ask why his son did not come to him for help sooner, sooner than his end now? But Odin knew why.

 

He was so cruel to the boy.

 

Even Thor had said as much.

 

And he knew it in his soul that despite her efforts not to, that Frigga would blame him.

 

….Just as his mother had blamed him for Jimmie’s untimely death. They no longer spoke to each other since Jimmie passed. Their relationship was estranged.

 

Even Frigga didn’t know the real reason why.

 

Odin just didn’t have the heart to tell her.

 

His father hadn’t been the same after Jimmie passed, ultimately taking his own life too after a terminal cancer diagnosis.

 

Suicide ran in the family and Odin shook himself for not realizing sooner how much pain his youngest was in.

 

There must have been something he could have done; something to have prevented this.

 

Something he could do now to help.

 

When Odin stepped past the boundary separating his home from the external world, he blindly rushed into the house.

 

He searched through the living room rapidly, an eye casting once quickly across the room then again more carefully.

 

Loki was not here.

 

Had his son left?

 

Had he run into traffic? Had he slit his wrists? Had he--had he--?

 

Odin marched up the stairs loudly but the house was eerily silent save for his labored, panicked breathing.

 

Where was Thor?

 

Odin felt the panic swarm his central nervous system maybe more than it should have.

 

He passed by Loki’s room, messier than usual--how long had this gone unnoticed for the elder man?--and Thor’s but no one was there.

 

When he passed the bathroom a second time, he felt an icy hurt plunge through his system.

 

As he reached for the handle, he stepped unevenly on the carpet, gazing down to find handwritten folded pieces of paper.

 

 _Loki is here,_ he thought, only just realizing this is where the music he had faintly heard down a floor was coming from.

 

He held his breath as the door shifted backwards.

 

…What he found made his heart still for a beat and a half.

 

“Oh, my son,” Odin whispered to himself, falling upon his knees as the tears came streaming down his cheeks.

 

Loki was so pale, his skin white and his lips tinged with grey and blue.

 

Loki reminded him so much of Jimmie then.

 

Jimmie with his lips chapped, his blue eyes lifeless and the blood that spattered the tile floor and trailed along the gunshot wound in his body.

 

He detached for a moment, he was sure of it.

 

Because one minute he was crying in shock and another he was on speaker phone to an ambulance he should have called sooner--should’ve, should’ve, should’ve--checking Loki’s limp body for a pulse.

 

There was one, he felt or maybe he lied to himself about feeling, but it was faint and slow.

 

He took his son into his arms, unnerved by the thinness of his form, his elbows sharp and jabbing into Odin’s thighs.

 

Odin held him and cried, looking around to find the source of the problem. He saw, through his tears, scattered white pills and a pamphlet on the tile detailing bold lettering with a single number:

 

1800 273 8255

 

Odin thought more than spoke, but he shushed Loki quietly, patting his long black hair with an open palm as he prayed to a god high above to keep his son here.

 

“Don’t go, Loki. Don’t go.”

 

How would he tell Frigga?

 

Who would tell Thor?

 

Loki was everything to Thor, he always had been?

 

How would the father of two live with himself when he became a father of one?

 

“We need you here, my son. **I** want you here.” He shut his eyes as the wordless music swarmed over his soul.

 

“Come back, Loki, come back…. My son, why do you hurt so?”

 

He heard the long wail of a siren off in the distance.

 

He wanted to tell Loki how much he meant to him, how much this world required him, how painful his absence would be on this entire province, whether they knew it or not.

 

Every life lost to that of suicide was a loss greater to humanity than was ever truly realized.

 

“My son, my son,” Odin whined, rocking them back and forth just as he had done to him as a young babe.

 

“I know I haven’t been there, my son. I have not given you the love you deserve. Come back to me now and things will be different. Don’t say hello to Uncle Jimmie so soon. Please, do not.”

 

The EMT’s soon crowded the room quicker than Odin would have guessed. They placed an oxygen mask over Loki’s face, asking Odin questions that he could not begin to answer. They started an IV and took the bottle of medication from the countertop by the sink and placed it neatly into a plastic biohazard bag.

 

They asked him if he wanted a ride to the hospital with them, but he said no because someone had to notify Thor and Odin couldn’t begin to guess where his firstborn was.

 

They just didn’t talk the same anymore.

 

Not even one of them.

 

But Odin knew the real reason was because he didn’t want to continue to feel so helpless watching Loki die all by himself.

 

At least with Frigga or Thor he could console them to take his mind off his coming loss, and even Odin could recognize how selfish that made him.

 

Misery loved company; Odin required company.

 

So when he saw the ambulance off and he trudged back up the stairs, he collected Loki’s notes and called Thor to tell him the predicament.

 

From there they could wait at the hospital, together.

 

Odin just prayed Thor wouldn’t blame him nearly as much as Odin already did.

 

* * *

 

It was still only early afternoon when Thor felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

 

He ignored it, placing his hands to the side of Jane Foster’s face, kissing her long and slow.

 

When they parted for air, their foreheads leaning onto each other, she asked breathlessly, “Shouldn’t you be answering that?”

 

Thor chuckled nervously, letting out a wisp of air.

 

“It’s probably nothing.” He reasoned, to himself or to Jane he wasn’t sure.

 

“You still might want to check,” she answered, placing a strand of fraying hair behind her ear.

 

Thor, hesitant and infinitely reluctant, rifled through his pocket and clicked through his phone.

 

“That’s strange,” Thor mused quietly, trying to understand the peculiarity of this new found situation.

 

“What?” Jane asked, curious and ready, it seemed, to solve a problem.

 

“I have a text from Loki and three missed calls from my father.” Thor frowned in thought, suddenly deathly afraid.

 

“What does that mean?” Jane whispered quietly, resting a warm hand on Thor’s shoulder.

 

“I don’t know,” Thor replied, unlocking his phone then dialing back his father.

 

The line rang only once before Odin answered.

 

“Thor?” His voice cracked, pained and strained.

 

Thor immediately felt there was bad news. His face fell and his blue eyes narrowed with his expression readable to Jane as she squeezed his shoulder in an effort to comfort him. Thor suddenly wished he was alone to be the only one to witness the expression of his emotions, because this was new territory and he was so used to being the person to comfort another, not the one receiving it.

 

“Father?” Thor breathed, the unknown suddenly striking his face.

 

“It’s Loki.” Odin cried out.

 

Thor’s world slowed to a halt. It was as if his time machine had stopped working in the midst of flight, as if he were submerged in zero gravity, as if rain droplets had frozen in time and space. He felt limitless and pulled apart all at the same time. He wanted to say something, to say anything, but his lips were frozen with frost like the red berries on a bush in winter and he couldn’t get his voice out of his skull to answer his father.

 

“Loki hurt himself. He’s on his way to the hospital. I need you to meet me there, Thor. Thor? Can you hear me?” Father spoke with emotion clogged in his throat.

 

Thor felt…unreal.

 

 _This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening. How_ could _it be happening?_

 

“Loki did what?” He croaked through his pain.

 

There was silence for a minute and Thor suddenly thought maybe this was all just a sick prank thought up by his brother or that the line had dropped or anything other than an emotional tsunami had taken place.

 

“Your brother tried to kill himself. He wrote--just meet me at the hospital. I’m heading there now.”

 

Tears Thor didn’t know he ever had hidden behind his eyes sprang to them now as if he were a personified sprinkler.

 

His phone dropped dully to the sofa’s green cushions as the words played over and over again in his mind.

 

**Your brother tried to kill himself. Your brother tried to kill himself. _Loki_ tried to kill himself. **

 

Flashes of memories sprang into his line of vision: Loki was yelling for him to wake up, Loki was calm and happy after a darkness so deep Thor had been guiltily afraid of him, Loki was hugging him; telling the elder sibling how much he loved him, Loki was doing terribly in his classes, Loki giving away his art materials to that one kid with the shaggy blonde hair, Loki crying after speaking with Ms. Pirelli after class, Loki bargaining and begging Thor not to discuss these matters--these suddenly real and valid concerns--with their parents.

 

Loki.

 

**Loki.**

 

He’d been crying out for help for months and no one had noticed. No one had realized until it was maybe too late.

 

More importantly--the most important thing was that--Thor had not noticed.

 

Thor knew he was still just a kid but he couldn’t help but feel partially responsible. He was Loki’s big brother; Loki’s partner standing by the sidelines cheering him on in this arena they called life.

 

If Thor hadn’t realized, if Thor hadn’t noticed, if Thor hadn’t guessed that this was the fatal trajectory of Loki’s life--then what kind of brother was he ever really? How could he dare to call himself Loki’s sibling if Thor had never even known this was as bad as things had gotten?

 

All the meals Loki had been skipping, all the times Thor had wanted to reach out to him but thought better of it--all of it was weighing heavily upon his shoulders now as if he had tried to lift the weight of a dying star.

 

How could he not have known?

 

He should have realized. He should have known. He should have been enough to stop it.

 

He should have been enough of a good reason to get Loki to stay alive.

 

And he felt immeasurably crushed that he wasn’t. If Thor wasn’t enough of a reason to keep on living, then how could he ever be of enough purpose to help keep Loki alive thereafter?

 

Ultimately, what could Thor do--if anything at all--to help keep Loki alive?

 

Because maybe, and Thor grew breathless at this, maybe Thor wasn’t enough. Maybe Loki needed more of an anchor than Thor’s life preserver could provide.

 

Or, maybe Thor couldn’t save Loki at all.

 

Maybe…maybe Loki had to learn now how to save himself. Thor blindly shook and trembled and cried and mourned because deep down, past his hope and his love for his brother, he feared that Loki did not possess the willingness to try.

 

And that--that scared him more than anything.

 

* * *

 

“Thor?” Jane asked again for the seventh time that minute. Her boyfriend had collapsed into the shoulder of her pink blouse with the peonies on it and hadn’t stopped crying since the phone had slipped from his hand and landed on the cushions nesting between them.

 

“Thor? Is there anything I can do?” Jane guessed that he wasn’t in the best of emotional places right now so she figured he couldn’t quite comprehend full sentences. Still, she muttered about her physics lab partner Darcy who looked up to her and how her baby Shih Tzu at home named Darla would chew on her new sneakers, the pair Jane still hadn’t broke into because her current ones were still fine (and she’d tried to tell her mother that but the woman hadn’t listened).

 

“So I told her not to yell at Darla like that because the poor thing would pee on the carpet out of fear, and it’s not like my Mom is some foul gremlin of a creature but she persists on yelling at Darla as if I’ve never even said anything.” Jane prattled on as if Thor collapsing into tears was a normal, everyday occurrence.

 

A few seniors at the household shot her dirty looks and she couldn’t stop herself from flipping them off behind Thor’s blonde head because fuck them, that’s why!

 

She noticed, a few seconds too late, that Thor had stopped bawling as much and tried to unsuccessfully clean his nasal passages from all the snot and dribble and gook that had otherwise been dreadfully unleashed.

 

“J-Jane?” He asked tentatively, avoiding her gaze as she groped for a tissue that some other nerd was trying to discreetly hand to her.

 

“Yes?” She asked in return, presenting to her boyfriend a clean, white majestic piece of Kleenex.

 

“Can you t-take me to Southbridge?”

 

Southbridge: the town’s nearest hospital.

 

She began to ask why but shut her teeth with an audible crush.

 

“Okay, let’s go.” She swung her legs free from the entanglement they had rested in on the couch and grasping Thor’s hand, she led him out to her car (stealing a box of tissues and making a twenty-eight point turn out of the crowded driveway).

 

They rode mostly in silence, Jane having the radio on low and being mostly in tune with the complexities of driving. She would steal a couple glances over to Thor from the corner of her brown eyes but his eyes were either glued to his phone or closed to blot out the tears that continued to leak out.

 

Jane combed through her brain for the right thing to say, opening and closing her mouth several times before simply settling on, “I hope things go okay.” She wanted to say more, wanted to follow-up with a question or two or eight, but she made her glossed lips into a frown and stuck with that.

 

Moments later she added, “I’m here if you need me.”

 

Unruly tears appeared in Thor’s vision.

 

“Th-That’s what I would tell my brother.” He clamped his open palms over his face in shame. “But he never needed me until it was too late. And-and where was I? I was with you,” he growled, shoving a hand out to Jane but not daring to touch her. He sobbed to himself with pain and guilt.

 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” He hiccupped and swung his head until it reverberated with the back of his seat. “I was supposed to be there for him! I was supposed to protect him? But how do I save him from himself?”

 

Jane’s eyes clouded with her own tears.

 

What she said next, solemnly and with no glee, she said because she cared for Thor, she cared for his loved ones and she cared because she liked him--but she cared not that he would always like her but rather he’d appreciate her point of view even when it was hard…especially when it was hard.

 

“You can’t, Thor.” She glanced at him hard when she came across another red light. She held strong emotion in her eyes, a pain she had learned long ago.

 

“You can’t always save somebody from themselves. Only they can. It has to be them…It can only come from them.” Her chocolate eyes stared through the desperation of his blue, even longer after the irate guy behind them honked his horn when the light had changed to green and Jane held Thor’s gaze anyways--because he needed her to, because it **mattered.**

 

“That doesn’t mean you don’t do everything you can because you do. You do **everything** you can. You support and you love and you care.” She paused, emotions tightening her voice. “But you accept that you can’t do everything. You accept that it’s ultimately his decision at the end of the day--whether that’s to live or to die. And it’s not easy--it will never be easy. But you accept it’s not your choice, it’s his. And that’s not to say you don’t give him help or resources or care--because you do. You do it with every fiber of your being. You also just learn how to let go because there are going to be times when you can’t hold on--whether it’s because they don’t want you to or they no longer can.

 

“You don’t give up hope though; because so many people live despite the challenges. So many people need you to believe in them as they learn to believe in themselves.

 

“So be there for him, because he needs you to be there for him. Help to teach him that he can be there for himself, too. And things will get better. Because they do get better. They do improve. They may not get easier yet you will get stronger. Loki’s going to be so strong one day. He’ll be, in some ways, even stronger than you. So have faith for that Loki, for that person, because he’s in there waiting for you and it’s your job not to save him but to help him learn how and why he needs to save himself.”

 

Jane had already pulled into a parking space when her (she hoped) inspirational speech had come to a close. She killed the engine and the music disappeared and she pulled the keys from the ignition in a clatter of metal hitting metal from all the keychains she had on it.

 

Thor was staring a hole into her winter coat as if he had bright lasers in his sockets.

 

“Thank you, Jane. I-I don’t know if I’ll remember all that but--”

 

“I’ll remind you,” Jane supplied with a quirk of her lips.

 

“--You’ll remind me,” Thor repeated, suddenly leaning forwards and bringing her into a tight embrace.

 

“Let’s get inside before our noses fall off,” she giggled and for the second time that day, Thor both agreed and felt such awe in his girlfriend, an awe that brought such warmth across his chest that he only wanted another chance to share this same joy with his brother.

 

With hope, he felt that he’d be blessed with this chance as they held hands and walked inside of Southbridge.

 

* * *

 

“Sixteen year old male brought in by ambulance after an apparent overdose on Oxycodone.” The brown-haired EMT announced as they wheeled the high schooler on the stretcher into the next available room.

 

“Do we know the dose?” someone asked from the corner but they were overshadowed as the emergency room doctor shuffled into the room with a penlight checking the reactivity of the patient’s pupils (there wasn’t any, as an expected symptom of the overdose).

 

“Vitals?” The doctor asked, petite and short as she gazed over at the EMT’s for quick clarification.

 

“Heartrate’s stuttering at forty-five, BP is low too. We don’t know how much was ingested; poor kid,” the male EMT stated, a frown settling on his thin lips. “We started an IV at the scene. Been pushing fluids since.”

 

“Then let’s get him situated, shall we? Help me move him to the bed and get some naloxone in case his breathing gives out. Let’s check the airway and get him on some monitors. Let’s go, people!” The doctor moved into position with ease and the other healthcare workers followed suit.

 

“How long’s he been unconscious for?” It was the voice from the back that piped up again, nervous and fidgeting slightly as they took in the scene.

 

“Father wasn’t very talkative. Since he found him though.” The man responded, hazel eyes flicking over to the entity.

 

The heart monitors played their feed onto the machines by Loki’s left and the signs weren’t great.

 

“Okay, change of plans, let’s push for that naloxone now, this kid needs a boost up!” The doctor ordered as the medicine was pushed into Loki without a second thought.

 

Loki’s slowed breathing put them on edge as they waited a moment for the medicine to kick in.

 

“How much does this kid weigh?” The doctor asked as an afterthought, lips pursed as she gazed over his slim form, having been freed from his sheltered and looming clothing.

 

“Not sure, maybe a hundred?” The female EMT mentioned over her shoulder as she began to follow her co-worker back out the doors.

 

“Has anyone notified the family?” She asked next, a clinical eye wavering between the monitors and Loki’s form.

 

Before anyone could properly respond she shook her head.

 

“Too many of these kids come in here on the daily. Let’s wait ’til he’s more stabilized before contacting the family. Anyone have the bottle?” Someone rifled for the bag the emergency responders had left by Loki’s bedside. “Not his prescription, then. Let’s get ready with another naloxone; we may be doing this for a while yet.” She said glumly, stretching her arms briefly over her head. She always had a habit of holding tension in her neck.

 

“Someone make sure psych is paged once he’s stabilized. He’s probably heading for a few days in the ICU.” She sighed, thinking to herself that this shift was really probably gonna suck ass.

 

But the clock ticked on and more patients needed to be seen and as she left the teenager to follow after the dozen others that had OD’ed or got pencils shoved in their ears or nail guns stuck to their fingers, she hoped to herself, that he’d make it out okay.

 

She hoped, for his sake, that he’d be one of the lucky ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> Aww, man! I know I’ve been doing super well on accuracy points thus far in this story and I’m reaaaaally hoping this final scene is okay for how things might otherwise play out in reality. I tried!! To be fair, I’ve never firsthand experienced medical complications from attempts myself, and every other time I’ve been hospitalized I was always in the psych section without going through medical. So, if it’s spotty at best that’s probably why! 
> 
> However, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter!! I’ve already started working on the next one and so be prepared for all the feels yet to come and everything else that’s about to come underway! 
> 
> Did you guys like Jane’s speech? I actually really kinda love her more for it, ahaha. It’s good to have a little bit more light in the story from a fresher perspective. I’m sure there’s a whole backstory somewhere in my head for why Jane knew to say what she did. 
> 
> Also, I plan to have some stigmatizing and less than kind experiences to come from various new and different characters as the story continues to pan out. But soon the Avengers will be here, yay! I’ve made up some hospital names now too which is extra nice. Also, Jimmie was actually a name I thought up recently for a character of a drawing I did, funnily enough! The rest came naturally from the Muse. One does not wish to argue with the Muse. XD 
> 
> Any who, thank you so much for reading!!! Please send me a review if you have the chance to! I’d love to read them and they help give me more inspiration and ideas for the future chapters and plot. :] 
> 
> Until next time, peeps! 
> 
> Handwritten: 4/14, 4/15, 4/18, 4/19/19  
> Typed: 4/20/19  
> Edited: 4/20; 4/21/19

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note:  
> From 3.24.2016
> 
> I…. I don’t know what this is. I’ve been having dreams about Loki and trying to find more lovely fanfic to read lately, and somehow Loki and My Muse have come together to birth this budding creation. Trigger warnings for eating disorder mentions in this story. And I of course, do not own any Marvel characters, although it’d be fancy if I did (but I don’t). I don’t know where this is going or how it even came to be, but it’s here and it exists and it’s going to be very interesting and inventive to follow where this story takes us. 
> 
> I also want to say that I don’t personally struggle with an ED, but I know some things about it, but please don’t take it personally if some things are errors, stereotypes, offensive or triggering. This story will have a positive ending, I can see that much ahead, and I’m aiming to introduce some of the Avengers characters as other psychiatric struggling individuals. 
> 
> Please send me reviews of your thoughts, as I will need encouragement to continue writing this plot out and for us all to journey through its makeup. I’m not sure how often I can update, but I will do my best and at least put out short chapters if longer ones are harder for me to write (because I’ve seen others write shorter chapters consistently and it’s inspired me to write this). I hope you all can enjoy it! I would love any suggestions you may have. <3 Thank you for reading and surviving this author’s note! I’m still new to AO3, so posting work still confuses me, haha.


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